She snaps her mouth shut, examining me as if searching for the lie. After a minute, her skepticism disappears, even if she still tries to hide her pleasure. “It’s not a full grin yet, though. Maybe you’d like me to be even more awkward?”
“You have no idea.”
She releases a laugh as if that was the punchline to a joke and not the honest truth.
“I’ve got breakfast just about ready. The bathroom’s around the corner. I put a spare toothbrush and toothpaste in there if you want it.” She moves into the kitchen to check on the steaming waffle iron, leaving me wondering just how much truth I’m willing to give her.
I abandon the cat to the couch and wash up in the bathroom. When I come back out, Rose has waffles plated up on the table along with fresh strawberries and blueberries, and a little bowl of powdered sugar.
“You didn’t have to do all this.” I’d hate to think she feels she owes me anything. I shouldn’t accept this elaborate “thank you.” Even if my taste buds would revolt if I walked away right now.
“I’m not a morning person, but I am a breakfast person.” She ignores my hesitation, taking one of the chairs and serving herself a golden waffle. She spoons fruit on top and adds a dash of sugar. Her creation looks even better than the breakfast platter at the diner.
I can’t help but follow suit—the warm, vanilla scent is impossible to resist. So is she.
Rose will be leaving soon to open the coffee shop with Troy, and I need to go home to take a shower before my shift starts. But there’s nothing hurried about our breakfast together. Heaven help me, it’s cozy.
It’s a softer moment than I should let myself experience with her. It gets me thinking about the possibility of more morningslike this. What it would be like to see her before she’s done up and ready for work. Wondering what her first sleepy smile of the day looks like.
But if I start dreaming up those kinds of gauzy scenarios, I’ll get greedy for them. And I know already the clock’s ticking down on this pretend relationship.
“I think somebody has a crush.”
Caught staring at Rose’s mouth, I refocus on her eyes. Their rich, cornflower blue is alight with humor and a touch of fondness. But thankfully, they’re not watching me. She tips her head to the side.
I swivel to follow where she’s indicating. The cat’s sitting about ten feet away, watching me with his hypnotic blue gaze. Seems like a normal cat would come closer, begging for pets or meowing for some food. This one just stares. He’s kind of a creepy little dude.
“He likes you.” She says it as if that’s the only natural conclusion.
“Feels more like a threat.” One wrong move, and he’ll show me his claws.
“He almost never comes out for me. When he does, I try to get close to him, and he just runs away.”
“Maybe you’re trying too hard.” I turn back to Rose in time to catch her wince.
“Probably.” She drops her gaze to her plate, suddenly interested in getting her waffle cut into just the right size pieces.
I didn’t mean it as broader commentary on her, but I can see how she might take it that way. She tries harder than anybody. She consistently puts in more work than is required, completing tasks in the shop I would have overlooked. If going the extra mile to keep customers coming back for more had a name, it’d be Rose. I bet everyone in her life gets the same level of dedication and effort. Family, friends…boyfriends.
Who’s giving her that kind of effort back? From what I can see, nobody is.
“Maybe it’s like you said,” I tell her before I can work myself into a sour mood. “Maybe grump attracts grump.”
“You really think so?” She’s hopeful but not completely reeled in.
“Sure. Maybe he doesn’t know how to trust that someone offering him love won’t take it away again. Maybe I’m safe to him because I’m not interested, so there’s less for him to lose.”
I don’t know if cats have that much cognitive ability, to be honest. If that animal had any sense, it would constantly be at Rose’s feet, soaking up every ounce of love she’s willing to give it.
“Oh. So I’m dangerous because I could love him too much, and he’ll be hurt when that love is gone?” She manages to look completely guileless even when she’s gently prodding a freshly awakened bear with a very sharp stick. “He acts like a grump because he’s afraid to let people in? But somewhere down deep, he just wants to be loved?”
I give her a slow blink to rival the cat’s intense looks. “Could be.”
“Which Reed are we talking about again?” The teasing curl along her mouth sets my blood to simmer. Her sweetness makes me want to cocoon her in my arms and never let her go. But her sassy side makes me want to kiss her until her braid’s come undone and we’re both out of breath.
I swallow those desires down. “I thought we agreed to change his name.”
“We did. Nothing’s stuck yet.” She turns to address the cat. “Isn’t that right, Sweetums? Prince Fluffybutt? Mr. Porkchop?”