Page 51 of Playing for Keeps
I tear my eyes away just in time as hers flutter open.
“What’s this?” she asks, her voice husky with sleep, her gaze landing on the stack of pancakes in my hands as she slowly pushes herself upright.
Her hair’s a little wild and her face is still soft with sleep, but damn, she’s perfect.
“Birthday breakfast,” I say, holding out the plate. “Happy birthday, Ivy. Make a wish.”
She grins, surprised. “You made me breakfast?” I nod, and she laughs. “I didn’t even know you could cook.”
“I’ve got a few hidden talents,” I say with a grin. “Now, come on. Make that wish before the candle gives up on us.”
She closes her eyes, lips curving as she leans in and gently blows out the flame.
“What did you wish for?” I ask, handing her the plate, along with the fork I grabbed earlier.
She gives me a teasing smile. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.” Then, more softly, her eyes on mine, she adds, “And I really hope it does this year.”
I swallow hard, wishing like hell I knew what that wish was. Maybe after a couple of glasses of champagne tonight, she’ll be in the mood to share.
“These pancakes are so good,” she says, clearly surprised after taking a bite.
I laugh. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
She shrugs, grinning. “I just never pictured you as the cooking type.”
I raise a brow. “Let’s not get carried away. I can handle pancakes, not a five-course meal.”
“Are you not eating?”
“I am,” I say, standing. “I’ll grab mine.”
“I’ll come with you,” she says, pushing the comforter aside and slipping out of bed.
I try not to let the disappointment show. I’d imagined us having breakfast right here, her still wrapped in the covers. It’s a stupid thought; she’s not my girlfriend. But watching her move around my space like she belongs here feels like enough… for now.
She pads barefoot across the room, and I follow her into the kitchen, trying not to let my eyes stay on her too long. I grab my plate and follow her to the couch, where she curls up cross-legged with her pancakes like it’s just another lazy morning. I can’t help but think how different this place feels with her in it.Like somehow, having Ivy here turns four walls into something more. I’ve always known it’s the people who make a home, not the building, but this morning just cements that.
“They were amazing, Wyatt. Seriously. Thank you.”
I smile, standing to take her plate. “Anytime. Want some coffee?”
“I can get it,” she says, already starting to stand.
“Don’t move. It’s your birthday. I’ll get it.”
She laughs, easing back down. “Careful, I could get used to this. I might have to spend every birthday with you.”
My chest tightens at that, and I laugh lightly as I head to the kitchen before I say something I shouldn’t, because I’d be more than okay with that.
I flick the coffee machine on and grab two mugs from the shelf. As I wait, my eyes land on the small, light blue gift bag I left on the counter the night before. I’d picked out something for her, jewelry. It felt right in the moment, but now I’m second-guessing myself. Is that too much for just friends? Maybe jewelry crosses some kind of line. Maybe I’m overthinking it.
Letting out a quiet groan, I pour the coffee, making hers the way she likes it, remembering from last weekend that it’s creamer and two sugars. On impulse, I grab both mugs and the small gift bag from the counter. Screw it. I want to give it to her, and I’m hoping she might wear it to dinner tonight.
Back in the living room, I hand her the coffee and sit beside her.
“Thanks,” she says, curling her fingers around the mug and blowing on it.
“I, uh… got you something,” I say.
