BREAKFAST OF SHAME
Naomi
“You don’t have to come along, you know,” I pointed out. “You didn’t get much sleep in the last forty-eight hours.”
“Neither did you,” Knox said, making a show of locking up the cabin before we left. I knew he was making a point.
I didn’t like people who made points. At least not before I’d had my coffee.
We made the short walk to Liza’s in silence. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and my mind was spinning like a dryer with a lopsided load.
We’d slept together. As in fell asleep in the same bed without having sex together. Not only that, but I’d woken up with Knox “Viking” Morgan spooning me.
I didn’t know much about no strings. Hell, I had so many strings attached to so many things, I’d been tied up in knots for most of my adult life. But even I knew that sharing a bed and cuddling was way too intimate for what we’d both agreed to.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. Waking up with Knox’s hard—and I do mean hard—body at my back, his arm draped heavily over my waist was one of the best ways in the world to wake up.
But it wasn’t part of the agreement. There was a reason for rules. Rules would keep me from falling for the grumpy, cuddly Viking.
I chewed on my lower lip.
Men got tired and didn’t want to walk women home or let women walk home alone only to be eaten by wildlife. The man had gone through a traumatic twenty-four hours. He probably wasn’t making the most rational decisions, I decided. Maybe Knox was just a restless sleeper. Maybe he spooned his dog in bed every night.
Of course, that didn’t explain why he’d volunteered to run next door and grab a bunch of my stuff while I showered. Why he’d put actual thought into an outfit for me. I glanced down at the high-waisted green and white shorts, the cute lacy top. He’d even grabbed underwear for me. Sure, it was a thong and didn’t match my bra. But still.
“’Bout done thinking everything to death?”
I shook myself from my reverie to find Knox shooting me one of those almost smiles.
“I was just running through my to do list,” I fibbed haughtily.
“Sure you were. Can we go in now?”
I realized we were standing in front of Liza’s house. The smell of Stef’s World Famous Maple Bacon wafted through the screen door.
There was a single woof followed by a chorus of barks as four dogs barreled through the door and off the porch.
Waylon was last, ears flapping behind him, tongue lolling obscenely from his mouth.
“Hey, bud,” Knox said, dropping to his knees to greet his dog and the other three as they jumped and yapped their enthusiasm.
I bent down and exchanged more dignified greetings with the pack before straightening.
“Okay, so what’s the plan?” I asked him.
Knox gave Waylon’s ears a last ruffle. “What plan?”
“Breakfast? With my family?” I prodded.
“Well, Daze, I don’t know about you, but my plan is to guzzle half a pot of coffee, chow down on some bacon, and then go back to bed for another four or five hours.”
“I mean, are we still…you know…pretending?”
Something passed over his face that I couldn’t read.
“Yeah. We’re still pretending,” he said finally.
I didn’t know if I was relieved or not.
Inside, we found Liza and my dad standing sentry behind Stef as he peered into the oven at two baking sheets of bacon that smelled like heaven. Mom was setting the table in the sun-room. Waylay was making her way around the table, still in her new, pink tie-dye pajamas, carefully pouring glasses of orange juice.
I felt a swift rush of affection for her and then remembered I had to come up with a suitable punishment for her today. I really needed to get to the discipline chapter in my library book.
“Mornin’, lovebirds. Didn’t expect to see you here, Knox,” Liza said, spotting us as she shuffled over to the coffee maker in a blue fuzzy robe over lightweight camouflage pajamas.
Knox draped an arm around my shoulders. “Mornin’,” he returned. “I couldn’t pass up the bacon.”
“No one can,” Stef said, pulling the trays out of the oven and setting them on the two cooling racks I’d discovered hidden behind the hutch in Liza’s dining room.
Waylay padded in on bare feet and sniffed with suspicion. “Why’s it smell weird?”
“First of all, gorgeous, you smell weird,” Stef said, giving her a wink. “Secondly, that’s the caramelized maple syrup.”
Waylay perked up. “I like syrup.” Her eyes slid to me. “Mornin’, Aunt Naomi.”
I ran my hand through her messy blonde hair. “Morning, kiddo. Did you have fun with your grandparents last night, or did they make you scrub the floors?”
“Me and Grandma and Uncle Stef watched The Princess Bride. Grandpa fell asleep before the shrieking eels,” she said. “Am I still grounded?”
Mom opened her mouth, looked at me, then shut it again.
“You are,” I decided. “For the weekend.”
“Can we still go to the library?”
I was new at this discipline thing, but I figured the library was safe enough. “Sure,” I yawned.
“Someone needs her coffee,” Mom sang. “Late night?” She looked pointedly at Knox and then winked at me.
“You know where else you two should go today?” Dad said. Now that the bacon was safely out of the oven, he was peering over Liza’s shoulder as she flipped an omelet.
“Where?” I asked warily.
He turned to look at me. “Car shopping. You need a car.” Dad said it with authority as if the idea of getting a car had somehow never occurred to me.
“I know, Dad. It’s on the list.”
It was on a literal list. A spreadsheet actually, comparing makes and models ranked by reliability, gas mileage, and cost.
“You and Waylay need something reliable,” he continued. “You can’t get around on bikes forever. It’ll be winter before you know it.”
“I know, Dad.”
“If you need money, your mother and I can help out.”
“Your father’s right, dear,” Mom said, handing Knox a cup of coffee and the second to me. She was wearing plaid pajama shorts and a matching button-down top.
“I don’t need any money. I have money,” I insisted.
“We’ll go this afternoon,” Dad decided.