She buried herself into his arms, limbs entangled with his, cheek resting on his chest.
Finally she spoke in a dazed slur.
“Anytime you want to go drinking, feel free. The benefits are amazing.”
He laughed and hugged her close.
“I need aspirin.”
“I need more coffee. Why’d you drink the last cup?”
“Dude, I gave you the bigger mug. My head is throbbing, and all I could find is Tylenol. I need something stronger.”
Tristan tried to snort but ended up rubbing his temple. “Maybe if you didn’t drink your coffee with all that froufrou cream you like, you’d get more of an effect.”
Dalton glared from across the island. “Really? You’re gonna try and pick a fight with me over cream in my coffee? And you call me immature.”
Morgan tamped down a chuckle and slapped down two pills in front of Dalton. “Take these. They work.” Dalton quickly chugged them down with water. “I’ll make pancakes and bacon. There’s another pot of coffee brewing.”
“Yes!” Dalton softly cheered. “No eggs, though—
I’ll puke.”
“Can I have my bacon extra crispy?” Tristan piped up.
“Yes, but you both have to clean up the kitchen. I hate dishes.”
“Deal,” they both agreed.
Morgan found the frying pan and set out the ingredients. Humming under her breath, she maneuvered around the kitchen in bare feet, yoga pants, and a pink T-shirt. A few weeks ago, she had begun stuffing some extra clothes in the top drawer of the bedroom bureau. Just in case. She tried not to think too much of it, but slowly realized the spare outfit had been joined by bras, panties, and pj’s. After all, Morgan never knew when Cal’s brothers would be around. She refused to be caught in the walk of shame. Balin and Gandalf lay in front of her, hoping to catch a crumb or two. She’d already let them out and fed them breakfast.
“I can’t believe you got skunked,” Dalton said. “Is it wrong to tell you I’m glad I went to bed before that incident? Washing those mutts is a nightmare.”
“It wasn’t a highlight of my life,” she said. “And I don’t think I’ll ever look at tomato juice the same.”
Tristan shuddered. “You’re a trooper, Morgan. Thanks for driving us home last night, too.”
“I’m glad I can help. I’ll take you both over so you can pick up your cars this morning.”
Dalton lit up. “Nice. Maybe the bartender will be there.”
“Her name is Raven. She’s the owner. Sydney and I met her a few weeks ago. She also makes a mean cocktail.”
“Just my type of woman.”
Tristan shook his head. “As long as she’s not involved in building any houses or selling real estate, go for it.”
Morgan wondered if she should tell them about her strange reaction once she heard their name, but Cal entered the kitchen and wiped out any other thought in her brain. Struck mute, she took in his rock-hard abs and his low-slung sweats that only emphasized every delicious muscle on his body. He caught her looking and gave her a slow, smug smile. Morgan turned back to her skillet, ignoring his knowing laugh. “Morning.” He grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee. “How you ladies feeling today?”
“We’ll live,” Dalton muttered. “Let’s just say I won’t be friends with Jack for a while.”
Tristan laughed, then winced. “Morgan’s taken pity on us. She’s cooking some breakfast.”
“Thank God. You two bozos need to learn to cook.”
Dalton rolled his eyes. “I can grill and put cold cuts on bread. I’m good.”
“Hey, I cook,” Tristan said. “I happened to take a course at the culinary arts school last year on French food. But I need to feel inspired.”
Cal muttered something into his mug. “French food to go with fancy French wine, bro? Next thing you’ll be crooking your pinkie finger while you drink your tea.”
“Fuck you,” Tristan said mildly.
Morgan fought a giggle and began sliding pancakes onto a plate. “First stack’s ready. Bacon’s almost done. And if you don’t leave one last mug of coffee for me, you’ll never get this again.”
The guys began munching, and Morgan enjoyed the scene before her, warmth buzzing through her veins. God, it felt good to be with these men. She cared about them, on and off the job site, and wanted them to be close again. She’d never had this before. After she left her parents, she’d been a bit of a nomad, chasing the next job and next location. Being in their kitchen, cooking breakfast, laughing at their banter—all of it struck her with a sense of rightness.