Linebacker’s Second Chance(66)

“This’ll get Miss Cadence right out of bed, you wait and see, Miss Doolittle.” I fiddle with the bacon until it starts to crisp up just how I like it, and I whip up some eggs with fresh jalapeños and shallots from the garden. “And I’ll top the omelet off with some goat cheese from that farm down the road. No cheese for you either, Eliza. Don’t look at me like that. But don’t you think it’ll impress our resident artist?”





I hear a yawn in the hallway outside of the kitchen and turn around to see Cadence, still in her nightshirt and one of the terrycloth robes I keep in the closet. “I’m already impressed,” she says. Her hair is a mess again, and she lifts a hand to it. The way she does it, puts that hand to her head like she’s self-conscious, it’s all sexy as fuck. That slightly messy look makes me almost lose my composure, like she’s broken wild after only a day of being here. For a moment, I forget I have my bacon cooking. It starts to sizzle and pop, begging to be turned over. “I forgot my kerchief. I wear it to sleep,” she says. She looks down like she’s embarrassed.





“I wouldn’t have noticed.”





She yawns again. “Is that fresh bread?” She takes a long sniff of the kitchen. “And bacon? What if I’m a vegetarian?”





“That was a risk I was willing to take, I guess.” I flash a smile, but inside, I’m hoping like hell that she doesn’t hate me for cooking bacon. “It’s all local, organic, grass-fed, sustainable.”





She laughs and puts her head in her hands for a second. The robe falls open for a split second, and I’m left staring at the deep V of her night shirt. “I’m definitely not a vegetarian. Don’t worry. I’ll gladly have some local, organic, grass-fed bacon.”





“And sustainable. The guy has wind on his farm.”





“Well then. I guess I’m in for a treat. You need any help? I’m all thumbs in the kitchen, but I can put out plates and butter for the bread. You got any jam?”





“I have fig preserves and honey.” I gesture to the fridge. “And plates and cups are up on the shelf by the Kitchenaid.”





“The Kitchenaid, huh? So you’re not just a billionaire—you’re a chef, too?” There’s a flirtatious tone in her voice that wasn’t there last night. I saw that spark, like it could be there. She cuts her eyes at me, a golden brown flicker under those dark lashes. And God help me, something in me feels like it’s being unlocked... or cut open, more like. My eyes wander down to her bare legs, to the bright red polish on her toenails. The whole picture is careless and wild.





Fuck work for just now, I think.





“Yeah I got a Kitchenaid. And Uggs. What of it?” I flip over the bacon and start whipping up the eggs. “The bread will be done in about four minutes—I can smell it forming up like it’s supposed to, and I’m about to die to slather a piece with butter and fig preserves.”





And to watch Cadence’s face when she bites into hers.





“I didn’t mention the Uggs this time.” Cadence gets two plates and sets them out on the table, moving around the kitchen lazily, like she owns the damn place. Eliza gets up from her bed and presses her head into Cadence’s hip that she almost knocks the poor girl over as she closes the refrigerator door. She stumbles and laughs, still holding the honey and fig preserves and Eliza pushes her hard, demanding her attention.





“Liza! Stop that. Let Cadence get that food on the table, or you’re getting no pieces of bacon. None!” Eliza looks back at me like I’m the cruelest, rudest man on the planet and backs off of Cadence for just a bit.





“I’ll give you attention when I sit down, girl,” she says, and the dog follows her right on over to the table. Cadence sits down on the window bench, and Eliza pushes against her again, wagging her stump hard. The dog drifts off into a state of ridiculous bliss as Cadence massages her ears and scratches the top of her head. I watch the two of them, watch as the smile forms on Cadence’s face.





“She really likes you.” Before I lose myself completely and let the bacon burn, I set the pieces out on a plate right before starting the omelet. The egg crisps up almost instantly in the cast iron skillet, the shallots on the bottom turning golden brown as I let the edges turn crispy and top it with dollops of fresh goat cheese.





“I really like her. I didn’t think I even liked big dogs. But I think she’s about to change my mind.” Cadence smiles, and I catch that glimmer again. I feel her eyes on me as I finish up the omelet and pull the bread out from the oven.