The scene from last night wasn’t the only thing that kept him in the bedroom. He’d kissed her. Something he had no right doing. Even though she had kissed him back, he had made the first move last night, which put all the blame on his shoulders. Can’t undo it, so get your ass out there. If he could change the past, the kiss from the night before wouldn’t be the only thing he’d undo.
“Come on, JoJo. Time to get out of bed.” Nate rubbed the dog’s head. At the sound of her name, the dog stretched out all four legs then jumped to the floor.
The scent of brewed coffee and breakfast pulled him down the short hallway into the kitchen. When he walked in, Lauren stood at the stove. Her long hair remained pulled back in a haphazard braid, and she wore pink fleece pants and a cotton top. She looked comfortable and relaxed as she worked. Even though he’d stopped to admire the view, JoJo darted past him. The dog sat down beside Lauren and looked up at her.
“I bet you want to go out,” Lauren said as she put down the spatula in her hand.
“I’ll let her out.” Nate crossed the kitchen and opened the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. The dog didn’t pause. She bounded down the stairs and across the snow-covered yard. Nate watched the dog run through the snow then turned away from the door. “Where do you keep the shovel?”
Lauren looked up from the stove. “Don’t worry about it. A plow comes for the driveway.” She didn’t hold his gaze for long before turning her attention back to the food in the pan. “Breakfast is just about ready, anyway. Help yourself to some coffee. The mugs are in the corner cabinet.”
An argument about shoveling could wait. He was hungry, and from here it looked like she’d made French toast, his favorite breakfast food. “You need a refill?” Nate held up the coffee pot.
“I’m good for now. Have a seat.” Lauren gestured toward a bar stool with the hand holding the plate piled high with food. The hint of cinnamon apples drifted toward him, and his mouth watered. “Don’t wait for me. Start eating.”
Before sitting, Nate let the dog back in. Snow clung to her face, especially around the muzzle. “Looks like someone likes the snow.”
Lauren laughed, and the sound eased the tension in his chest. “JoJo’s a bit of snow bunny,” she said.
Nate took another sip of his coffee. For now, he’d wait and let her pick a topic of conversation. Last night he’d tried and had ended up arguing with her. He didn’t want to argue with Lauren. “This looks great. Thanks.” He picked up his fork with a small smile on his face. His plate was piled high with French toast covered with caramelized apples, just the way he liked it. He’d bet that she’d added cinnamon and nutmeg to the French toast, too. Nate took his first bite. The combination of flavors exploded in his mouth and sent his mind reeling back to all the times his mother had made French toast just like this. Living next door, Lauren would often stop over in the morning on the weekends and join them. She always complained that her mom thought the only breakfast foods in the world either came from a cereal box or fit inside a toaster.
Taking the seat next to him, Lauren started on her own breakfast, French toast minus the apples. Instead she had added a few raspberries on top. “Did you sleep okay last night?”
It was a valid question. One anyone would ask someone who had spent the night. Nate sensed by her tone that she was asking more than her words implied. “Great.” He shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth. It wasn’t a lie. With the exception of his nightmare, he had slept well. The unexpected warmth of her hand on his arm caused him to bite his tongue as he chewed. Still, the quick stab of pain didn’t affect the heat building in his body.
“If you . . . um . . . ever want to talk or anything, Nate, I’m here.” Her voice resonated with compassion and concern.
Nate bit back a curse, then worrying she’d pull her hand away, he covered it with his own, anchoring her to him. “Nothing to talk about unless you mean us.”
“I saw you last night. That was no normal dream you had.”
If she wanted to ignore the past between them for now, fine, but he wasn’t talking about his nightmares either. “Let it go, Lauren. Everyone gets nightmares. It’s no big deal.”
“Nate—” Lauren’s voice took on a pleading tone.
“Lauren, I’m fine,” he snapped. “Let’s just finish eating.” Removing his hand, he picked up his fork. Irritation made him stab his food as if it might grow legs and run away. Her insistence that he open up indicated she still cared. He should have been pleased about that. All he felt, though, was embarrassment.