It’s so beautiful here, crisp and clean. There’s none of my usual morning soundtrack, the city traffic hum: garbage trucks and morning commuters, neighbors playing the radio, or deliveries unloading downstairs. The air is fresh, and it fills me with wakeful anticipation.
What will we do today?
I step back inside, and go to the kitchen, pouring myself a mug of freshly brewed coffee and examining the contents of Dex’s cabinets. He must have someone bring groceries, because the kitchen is well-stocked with staples and fresh produce. I find a carton of fresh sweet peaches on the countertop and bacon in the fridge. Pancakes, I decide, and set about assembling the ingredients for the batter.
I turn on the radio to an oldies station as I move around the kitchen. It’s a treat to be in a space like this, all gleaming granite countertops and top-of-the-line appliances. I love to cook, but only when it’s for other people. I enjoy hosting dinner parties for my friends, and whipping up a batch of cupcakes for celebrations, but when it comes to myself, I prefer to grab takeout or fix a simple snack. There’s something painfully lonely about sitting down to an elaborate meal in my apartment, all alone, so I save my favorite recipes for when I have company—someone to share the meal with, and to appreciate the effort.
I put the bacon on to crisp and mix the batter, adding my secret ingredient of yogurt to make the mixture thick and creamy. It’s a family recipe; my mom taught me everything she knows. I grew up watching her prepare dinner for my father every night. They both work, but she loves to cook, too. For her, it’s never a chore. Even now, she enjoys planning recipes and picking things she knows he’ll like: surprising him with his favorite meal on special occasions and slipping home-baked treats into his lunch for work. It’s her way of showing how much she loves him, and watching them together, I always imagined doing the same for my husband one day.
In those fantasies, the man in my dreams was always Hunter.
I pause, thinking of him for the first time in what feels like forever. It’s Wednesday now, and we’re supposed to hang out tomorrow. Part of me held off on canceling him because I wasn’t sure what I’d find here with Dex—reserving the right to turn back around and be home in the city before anything changed.
I feel a strange wave of guilt, like I’m betraying him by being here: making my morning pancakes for another man.
No. I warn myself. Don’t think about it like that. He was never yours to begin with. Those fantasies were just that: a distant dream.
This moment with Dex is something real.
I find my phone, and quickly tap out a text.
Can’t make tomorrow, sorry. Out of town!
A moment later, the reply comes back. Everything OK?
Yes! Last-minute vacation.
Hunter replies. Enjoy! You deserve it.
“Is that bacon? Be still my heart.”
Dex’s voice comes from the doorway. I startle, slipping my phone away out of sight as I turn. He’s looking illegally good so early in the morning: out of breath from his run, shirtless in athletic shorts, his bare chest glistening with sweat.
Another stab of guilt twists in my stomach, as if he’s now the one who’s caught me cheating with another man.
“Yes, breakfast!” I exclaim brightly. “Give me a minute, I’m just getting the skillet warmed up.”
“You cook, too?” Dex saunters closer, investigating the spread. “Damn, woman. You’re every man’s fantasy.”
He reaches to steal a crispy strip of bacon. I lightly swat his hand with the spatula. “Sure I am.”
Dex slides his arm around my waist and pulls me closer, hard against his body. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lowering his head to claim my mouth in a scorching kiss.
Oh…
I sigh, melting against him. Somehow, I always forget how good this feels. How right. He kisses me thoroughly, exploring my mouth in sensuous strokes as I breathe in his masculine, musky smell. I forget about everything but the taste of his lips and the feel of his naked torso, slick beneath my hands. I fall deeper into the kiss, pressing into him, my body roaring to life under his hands.
The oven timer sounds, breaking through my dizzy rush. I pull back. “The bacon!”
Dex grins. “There’s more?”
“Of course,” I smile, going to retrieve the next batch from under the grill. “I know what men really want.”
Dex chuckles. “Grilled meat and a gorgeous woman to serve it to us.”
“Hey!” I toss a dishcloth at him. “Could you sound more caveman?”
“That’s me, baby. Old school.” Dex suddenly picks me up around the waist, swinging me over his shoulder. “I’ll carry you back to my cave and have my wicked way with you.”
I yelp for mercy, turned upside down. Dex laughs, carrying me around the kitchen before finally setting me down on the counter with a kiss.
“You’re all talk,” I tell him, breathless and giggling.
“Wanna bet?” Dex challenges, a teasing glint in his eye.
“Later,” I decide, noticing the skillet smoking on the stove. I forgot all about it—I’m lucky it didn’t burn the place down. I give Dex a gentle push to move him aside and hop down from the counter. “First, we eat.”
“Amen to that.”
We eat out on the deck in the morning sun. My pancakes are a hit, as are the fruit smoothies I whipped up in one of the gleaming contraptions Dex has filling his cabinets.
“I can’t get over this view…” I sigh with pleasure, curling back in my chair. The ocean sparkles like a sapphire, and the cloudless sky is cornflower blue. “It’s heaven.”