I wake up tangled in unfamiliar sheets. It takes my sleepy brain a few moments to realize that I’m in Gavin’s bed. After a long night of watching television, I must have passed out. I hear noise coming from outside the closed door. I climb out of the warm bed, letting my feet hit the floor. I follow the sounds. Gavin is standing at the stove. Whatever he is cooking, it smells delicious. I take a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast nook. From my little perch, I can admire Gavin’s inked skin and obvious muscles. How? He’s shirtless. Well, with the exception of the black apron he has on.

“Hope you like pancakes.”

“I would be foolish not to.”

He uses the spatula to place two on the pile next to him. He uses a knife to spread butter on the warm pancakes before pouring some more batter into the hot pan. He sprinkles something over the pan, waits a minute, then flips the pancakes over. I study the way his muscles move, even the slightest, as he continues to make breakfast.

One of his tattoos catches my eyes.

He turns around suddenly, startling me. He smirks. He probably knows I was ogling.

“Like what you see?”

I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks. I look down at the floor, embarrassed. Gavin sets down a plate and a fork in front of me.

“Do you like syrup and whipped cream on your pancakes?”

“Yes please!”

He comes back to the nook a few seconds later, a can of whipped cream and a bottle of syrup in hand.

“How about fresh fruit? I have blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, and bananas.”

“All of those sound good except the blueberries.”

I peek up at Gavin. He’s looking at me with obvious mock shock.

“You don’t like blueberries?”

“I didn’t say that. I just don’t like them on my pancakes.”

He changes his look so that he is wearing a smile again.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Do you have milk?”

“One glass of milk coming right up.”

Once everything for breakfast is at the nook, he sits down.

“Dig in. Don’t be afraid to eat as many pancakes as you want either. I can always make more.”