Page 71 of Fierce-Baker

FELT DIFFERENT THIS TIME

The next morning, Baker was up earlier than Tasha, in the kitchen and making breakfast.

Her tears last night, they’d gutted him.

He’d thought he’d hurt her. Physically caused her pain.

But she laughed and said he’d just knocked her traitorous tears loose.

He didn’t believe that fully, but he couldn’t really call her a liar either.

As quietly as he could, he cracked eggs in a bowl, then looked around for a pan.

She hadn’t even heard, let alone felt him get out of bed twenty minutes ago. He’d pissed, brushed his teeth, taken a shower, and still nothing when he tiptoed out.

Guess he wore her out well. Or it was the freedom of not having to chase after Micah. Maybe a combination of both.

After opening and closing several cabinets, he found her pans, pulled one out, put a dab of butter in it and whisked the eggs until the pan was heated.

Bread dropped in the toaster, the eggs poured to the sound of sizzling.

“Damn, what a sight that this is first thing in the morning.”

He turned quickly to see Tasha in the doorway, her hair tangled around her shoulder, one strap of her tank top falling over her bicep, her hand in front of her mouth covering a yawn, and her toes spreading on the floor as if it was her natural morning stretch.

There was never a more beautiful sight than that in his eyes.

“You’re telling me,” he said, his hand out. She moved easily toward him and into his arms. “You didn’t hear a sound when I was moving around.”

“The smell of coffee woke me. Where’s mine?”

She was looking at the counter, at his half-finished cup. “I’ll make it for you.”

“Do you mind while I take a quick shower? Though it looks as if the food will be done soon.”

“It will hold. Go on.”

She leaned up and smacked a kiss to his lips, then took off in a happy jog, almost like a skip out of the room, half turning, and blowing him a kiss.

If anyone had ever said he’d be smiling over a move like that, he might punch them in the face.

Fuck.

The last thing he wanted to do was fall back into what he had with Alexa.

But it felt different this time.

Nothing about Tasha was the same as what it was with Alexa.

And the fact she was holding back as much as him made it almost feel as if it wasn’t so hard.

Not even ten minutes later, she returned in shorts and a T-shirt, bare feet, her hair wrapped up in a bun on her head, and reached for the coffee cup before she reached for him.

“You even put my creamer in it. That’s super sweet.”

“I’ve seen you make it enough times at work.”

The toast was buttered, the scrambled eggs with a handful of shredded cheese melted in were scooped onto their plates, and the forks set out next to the plates on the island.