Watching him go about his own morning routine while anticipating my needs leaves me with a strange completeness. Asif some vital part of me had been waiting all along, and only now do I recognize it had ever been missing.
“You’re staring,” Jared says, not turning around as he pours water into the coffee maker.
Is he as affected as I am? Is he also fighting the urge to abandon responsibility for pleasure?
“Can’t I appreciate the view?” I tease, not sure when I learned to be so at ease with another person.
This pulls a laugh from him. “Save it for after the inspection, you temptress. I’ll still be pretty this afternoon.”
The coffee begins to drip, filling the air with its rich aroma. I return to the crock pot, adding the wine before covering it with the lid and setting it on low so it can spend all day breaking down the fats.
Jared opens the refrigerator. “Oatmeal or eggs?”
“Eggs, please.”
A warmth that has nothing to do with physical desire spreads through me. I prop my hip against the counter, watching him work.
“Stop looking so worried,” Jared says as he places a skillet on the stove. “The inspection will be fine.”
“It will,” I agree.
“So, why the furrow?”
I hadn’t realized I’d let my thoughts show. “Force of habit.”
He sets down the carton of eggs to gently massage between my eyebrows. “Save your worries for things worth worrying about. Like what tie I’m going to wear to the celebration party.”
“You don’t own a tie.”
“See? Now that’s worth furrowing over.”
The timer for the coffee beeps, and he returns to his task, pouring two mugs and doctoring mine with a splash of cream.
He places it in my hands, his fingers brushing mine. “Drink. Wake up. Then tell me why today won’t be a disaster.”
I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic, inhaling the steam before taking a sip.
“Today won’t be a disaster because we’ve done everything right,” I say, the coffee warming me from the inside out. “The work is solid, and the inspectors are fair.”
Jared raises his mug in a toast. “To solid work. May it save you from bureaucratic nightmares. Now, go put on some clothes so I can focus on finishing breakfast.”
“Yes, sir.” I give him a chaste kiss before I head back to the bedroom.
“I like the new title!” he calls after me.
“Don’t get used to it!” I yell back, shaking my head at myself.
When did I start yelling through the house without worrying about who I might be disturbing?
Since Jared moved in, my mind whispers, and I have to give myself a bracing sip of coffee to push back the rosy glow of happiness the thought brings.
Instead, I focus on the final checklist as I swap my warm robe for sturdy jeans and a flannel, each item ticked off with the same eye for detail that I apply to every construction project. Plumbing, electrical, and safety compliance. My crew didn’t cut corners, and neither did I.
The resort inspection will pass with flying colors.
By the time I return to the kitchen, my mug is empty, and Jared has breakfast ready at the small table pushed up against the wall.
My stomach rumbles with appreciation as I slide into my chair. “You didn’t have to make pancakes.”