She was pretty damn amazing, all in all.
Jericho dressed in his wrinkled clothes, noticing that Emily’s robe was no longer on the floor. He headed down the narrow stairs of the old Victorian and heard the sound of something sizzling in the kitchen, just before he caught the scent of bacon.
His mouth watered. Bacon. She’d fucked him until he’d passed out last night and now she was making him bacon? The woman was diabolical.
Jericho rounded a corner to see Emily in the kitchen at the stove, dressed in her fluffy robe. Her hair was messily pulled into a clip and she was barefoot, humming as she scraped something onto a nearby plate.
“Hey,” he said as he headed into the kitchen.
Emily jumped, turning around. She had a skillet in one hand, a spatula in the other, and her face lit up at the sight of him. “Hey you! I was just making breakfast. Are you hungry?”
He rubbed the back of his head, feeling a little uncomfortable. He was never good with morning-afters. Most of his hook-ups were just that, and it usually involved grabbing your things and heading out before things got awkward for either person. “You sure you want me to stick around?”
She pointed at one of the barstools at her breakfast bar with the spatula. “Sit. Eat. I like having someone to cook for.”
He sat, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “Thanks.”
“You like your eggs over easy? Medium? Omelet? French toast?”
He rubbed his jaw. “Only way I’ve ever had them are scrambled with lots of ketchup on them to kill the taste.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What did your mom make you for breakfast when you were a kid?”
He felt his mouth curving into a wry smile. “Brownies?”
Emily’s brows pulled together as she considered that. “I guess that’s not so bad—“
“Pot brownies.”
Her eyes widened. She put down the skillet. “Do you mean to tell me that your mother never cooked anything for you but pot brownies?”
“Despite having two kids, my mother was not very domestic,” he said, watching as she picked up the big cast-iron skillet again. “I guess that’s why this makes me…nervous.”
“Nervous? How so?”
He rubbed his jaw, feeling acutely uncomfortable. This is the part where girls normally freaked out. “Feels kinda…happy homemaker? I’m not used to getting more than a door hitting my ass on the way out.”
Emily snorted and turned back to her cooking. “Would it make you feel better if I ran you off?”
It might have. Jericho rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. He’d just met Emily, really. Sure, they had good sex – okay, amazing sex – but weren’t they moving a little fast for the whole ‘making you breakfast’ thing?
“I’m going to make you a chorizo omelet,” Emily said, pulling out cheese, tomatoes and something that looked like ground beef. “You’ll like it. As for feeling weird about eating my food? I’m not looking for husband number two, just so you know.”
He relaxed a bit at that and picked up his coffee cup. Maybe they were on the same page after all.
“Some people do crosswords,” she said, putting aside her skillet. The bacon smelled amazing, sizzling on the stove, and he had to admit his mouth watered thinking about it. His breakfasts normally came from a greasy spoon diner and were usually kind of disgusting. “Some people scrapbook. I like to feed people.”
“Mom complex?”
She gave him a look. “I can’t cook for someone without them thinking I want a husband, a dog, and two point five children? Look. I just like to cook. I really love to bake. It relaxes me. And when I don’t have anyone to cook for, I cook for others.” She turned and checked a clock behind her, and then hurried to the fridge. “Which reminds me…I need to make zucchini muffins today.”
“Zucchini…muffins?”
“The mayor’s wife is on a health food kick,” Emily said, tossing a few zucchini on the counter and then grabbing a nearby bowl and beating the eggs she’d cracked as if she was running a short order kitchen. “And she asked me to make some for her. Naturally I said yes. I owe her for pushing through the zoning change for my parking lot.” She smiled over at him, busy, but clearly in her element. “Do you like zucchini muffins?”
“I…have no idea.”
“Then stick around. I’ll give you a few.”
He did. He stuck around through breakfast, which was easily the most incredible thing he’d ever eaten. His chorizo omelet was spicy and full of cheese, the eggs so fluffy that they seemed to float off the plate. The bacon was crisp perfection, the home fries tasty, and the coffee delicious. Emily chatted as she cooked and pushed things in and out of the oven, and Jericho found himself staying for a second cup of coffee and a few of the zucchini muffins. They were just as delicious as everything else, and the company was great. She talked about her changes to the old Victorian, and he found himself making suggestions and growing enthusiastic about the improvements she could make on the place. He’d once dreamed of flipping houses, but that dream had gotten lost somewhere along the way. Talking with Emily reminded him of it.