“I think you know the answer to that.”
He sighs and stands from the couch. “What’s it going to be? Waffles? Pancakes? Omelets?”
“The pickle special, please.”
He glances over his shoulder. “If it’s going to be the pickle special, then you better get your little behind in here and help.”
“But I’m emotionally spent,” I playfully whine.
“Not an excuse. Get in here, now.”
“Fine,” I answer, exasperated.
“So are you nervous?” I ask Breaker as I sit on his bed, cross-legged, drinking my third cup of coffee this morning.
“Nervous about what?” he asks as he sifts through his dresser for clothes. Fresh from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, he still has droplets of water cascading over his skin from places he missed while drying.
I watch his finely tuned back muscles flex, the corded sinew on either side of his spine when he moves to the right and when he moves to the left. When he stands with a T-shirt and shorts in hand, I catch the way his towel conforms to his butt, giving me the smallest glimpse of his glutes and the hard work he puts in at the gym. And when he turns around, I avert my eyes because there’s something about his chest, the thickness of his pecs, and the carved divots of his abdomen that make me blush.
Staring down at my coffee cup, I say, “Nervous about your date with Birdy.”
“No,” he says confidently.
“Not even a little?”
He shakes his head. “Not even a little.”
“Well, she did make it quite clear that you two were having a good time. She said you were a really good kisser.”
“That’s because I am,” he says, then smirks at me.
I roll my eyes. “Humble much?”
“Never.”
He disappears into his bathroom, and I call out, “Are you doing anything tonight? I was hoping we could play Plunder or Codenames. But I can find something else to do if you plan on carrying your date later into the night.”
He pops out of the bathroom wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and a black T-shirt. Funny that he took so long searching through his dresser for that outfit. It’s as plain as plain can get.
“I’ll let you know,” he says as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed with a pair of black socks.
“Are your panties black too?”
“Don’t call them panties.” I laugh as he continues. “And you know they’re black. How could you forget after that one night you were so wasted, you wore them over your head and passed out.”
“Can we not talk about that?”
“You brought up underwear. Therefore, I wanted to bring up one of my favorite memories of you.”
“That’s one of your favorites? Wow, you really need to reconsider your memories.”
He turns toward me, and I get a whiff of his cologne—fresh and bright—which makes me want to sink my nose into his chest. “If we’re talking favorite memories, I think yesterday a core one hit me hard in the chest. Wasn’t expecting it.”
His voice grows serious, so I know what he’s about to say is not a joke. “What was it?” I ask.
His eyes lift, and he says, “Seeing you in that wedding dress. You seriously took my breath away, Lia.”
My cheeks heat as I bring my coffee cup to my lips. “Thank you.” And then, because the moment is so serious, I say, “Do you know what my favorite memory of you is?”
“The time I misspelled pickle while playing Scrabble so you could forever have a nickname for me?”
I chuckle. “No, but that’s up there.” I push a strand of hair out of my face. “The day you graduated. I can still see the exuberant hug you gave your brothers while you were in your cap and gown. It was so beautiful to see brothers that connected to each other, that supportive. It made me love you that much more.”
He smiles. “I’ve been very lucky in the brother department, even though they can be pains and they ditch me for their wives now.”
“Can you blame them? Have you seen their wives?”
He laughs. “Yeah, I have, and the fact that they got married so close together doesn’t really help me because they’re both still honeymooning.”
“I’m pretty sure they’ll be honeymooning for a while.”
He drags his hand over his scruffy jaw. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to be doing the honeymooning pretty quickly as well.”
I shrug. “Probably not as long. Brian is not that obsessed with me. I’m guessing he’ll be the guy who brings work on his honeymoon.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. When I glance at Breaker, his brow is furrowed, and I can tell he wants to say something. “Who knows, though,” I continue. “He can be very attentive at times.”