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.
When it came time for him to leave, he did so, reluctantly. “I need to get dressed. Got an appointment I need to be heading off to.”
“Of course,” she said, and began to immediately prepare him a meal and a thermos of coffee.
He protested. “You don’t have to do that—“
She waved off his concerns. “It’s the least I can do since you fixed my problem for me.”
“Oversensitivity?”
Her face flushed a bright red. “The possums.”
Jericho found himself grinning at her. “That, too.”
She held the lunch out to him, and when he reached to take it, she snatched it back. “Before you get all weird on me, I just want you to know that what happened between us didn’t mean anything. Like I said, I’m not looking for another husband. We can be friends…with benefits. But I’m not looking for more, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed. He didn’t know whether to be amused at Emily’s firm declarations that she didn’t want a relationship with him or a little stung by it. He decided to go with amused. “So can I see you again?”
Her smile widened. “Absolutely.”
And she sent him on his way with a kiss that made him regret having appointments after all.
Over the next few weeks, Emily and Jericho became very ‘close’ friends…with lots of benefits.
Okay, so they were screwing. That was the impolite way to put it, Emily figured, but it was apt.
They weren’t really dating. Not really. Sure, they had dinner together and worked on projects, and she hired him to fix a leaky faucet. When he rented a DVD he’d swing by and ask if she wanted to see it, and they’d end up on her couch together.
And sometimes on the floor together. And in the shower together.
It was fine, really. It was all perfectly casual. No one was pressuring anyone, and that was how Emily liked it. She liked knowing that if she wanted to have some (filthy, nasty, explosive) sex, Jericho was just a phone call away. He knew if he needed a sandwich or a buddy to hang out with, Emily was there for him. Emily wasn’t sure what to call their relationship.
‘Fun’ was the word that came to mind, though.
She didn’t know if they were exclusive. She doubted it. Exclusive was one of those words you tossed around when you were in a ‘real’ relationship and Emily wasn’t sure she was ready for one of those. She was exclusive purely because, well, she wasn’t interested in sleeping with anyone else. Exactly how Jericho felt, she had no idea. But she didn’t want to push things because frankly, she wasn’t too good at being settled down.