“So you’re gonna bail on me?”
“I’m getting out of the cattle business. I’m not selling out on friendship.” A beat later, Grant added, “Unless of course I choke on your coffee this morning, and then I’ll send you a postcard from Florida.”
“Florida’s ass. You’d be miserable in that heat. You can’t handle East Tennessee weather. How in the hell do you think you can stand cooking on high heat?”
Grant shrugged. “I’ll manage. If the weather is hot and the girls are hotter, why complain? Besides, I’ve already looked into purchasing property down in St. Augustine. Real estate prices are way down, and last I checked, St. Augustine is still only about an hour from the greatest football team to ever play in the South.”
“Says you,” Blake said, frowning. Grant sounded serious about making this move. He’d have to get busy and work on changing his best friend’s mind. In the meantime, he was pretty hungry. They’d debate the issue of best professional football teams over a quick meal. “I could’ve sworn you said you had breakfast covered.”
“About like you’ve got the beer, friend.”
* * * *
Morgan peeled the dough away from the oblong can. Placing the precut biscuits on a baking sheet, she arranged the five pieces and placed the pan in the oven. After setting the timer, she pulled out a carton of eggs and started cracking them, watching as the yolk slowly drifted toward the bottom of the shallow glass bowl. She set them aside.
Retrieving a fork, she tapped the utensil on the counter, waiting for the stove to heat. Minutes later, she beat the yolks over an iron skillet. When the edges looked done, she flipped the egg, tossed in a handful of precooked sausage pieces, and sprinkled shredded cheddar cheese around the center. Hearing the timer buzz, she removed the biscuits, grabbed a spatula, and placed the large omelet on a platter.
“Something sure smells good in here,” a familiar voice from out of nowhere resounded.
Startled, Morgan practically jumped away from the breakfast bar. “Good Lord! I’ve been away from the country so long, I forgot that no one knocks out here!”
She immediately wheeled around and faced Grant. She was pleasantly surprised to find him accompanied by Blake Ballantine, another lover from her past.
Her gaze went on a deliberate hike, working over each of her guests like she’d never greeted more handsome visitors. Blake had aged better than fine Scotch whiskey, and Grant still owned the rights to that bad boy appeal, possessing a cocksure cowboy swagger guaranteed to make a woman dampen her thong or squirm in her panties.
“Hey you,” Blake said, the longing tone as evident then as it had been in previous years. “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes that have been throbbing at the socket since you left, I don’t know what is.”
Blake made her heart slow down to a flutter softer than a butterfly’s wings.
“Someone looks better than breakfast smells,” Grant said, studying her with a twinkle of dark passion seeping into his eyes.
“Grant, Blake.” She tilted her head toward them as she spoke their names, but her eyes immediately fell to the floor, downcast before she had any control over stopping her submissive tendencies. “What brings you out here so early this morning?”
“Is that the best you can do after you’ve been MIA for the last four years?” Blake asked, stalking her with his arms spread apart.
Her hands trembled as she picked up her breakfast plate only to immediately set aside her prepared meal, accepting the first hearty hug offered. “You’re right. It’s been awhile now.”
“Damn right it has.” Blake spun her around, lifting her up until her feet were more than several inches off the ground. When he released her, Grant embraced her, hugging her until she was convinced he might break her in two.
“It’s good to see you,” she said nervously, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s great seeing you, too,” Grant offered, although he didn’t look like he meant it. His eyes narrowed and his questioning gaze made her uncomfortable.
“I hope so,” she muttered. She tried to recall when they’d all been together in the same room. Coming up empty-handed, she focused on the last time she’d seen either of them at all. Her memory was still foggy no thanks to her drug use, but she remembered one crucial fact. Whenever she’d been with Grant or Blake, she’d always felt loved.
“If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t say it.” Grant still possessed those piercing light blue eyes as pretty as a perfect morning sky. His natural dimples were so wide his face would’ve cracked if his expression had been loaded with a few more, but his mischievous smile was a woman’s undoing.