you.”
Hell yes she did. I got the glasses on the kitchen island, grabbed the plates and flatware. The slight sizzle of the batter hitting the hot griddle had happy memories washing through me. My Grams had loved making shapes and characters with her pancake batter. Had gotten pretty good at it, really.
The musky scent of cinnamon had me spinning around. I peered over Willow's shoulder. Saw the speckled batter as it bubbled. “You made cinnamon pancakes?”
She looked at me over her shoulder. Nodded. “Yeah. I played with a recipe. We’ll have to see how it tastes. I made a vanilla frosting syrup to go with them.”
I groaned. “You turned our cupcakes into pancakes?”
She smiled. “I tried to, anyway.” She flipped the first round of golden brown batter. “We’ll see if I was successful in about three minutes.”
I snagged the plates up from their spots. Held one out for the pancakes that she delivered. I lifted one plate, inhaled the scent of cinnamon. “They’re going to taste amazing. I know it.” I waited for her to grab a small saucepan and a trivet before we sat down.
We stared at each other for a minute. A heavy, expectant pause sat between us.
Willow chuckled. “I feel like we should say grace or something. That’s what we always do with Momma and Papa.”
I smiled. “Go for it. I was just trying to be polite and not rip into these things as soon as my ass hit the chair.”
Her laugh was full of light and beauty. “Then dig in. I’ve got to keep my man’s belly full.” She grabbed up the saucepan. Drizzled her syrup frosting over the top of her short stack. She slid her finger under the rim, caught up a stray string of heated sugar.
I snagged her hand before she could put it in her mouth. I leaned forward, licked her digit clean. “Yum.”
Her sage green eyes heated. “At least you’re getting to lick some frosting off of me.” She leaned up and over the table. Kissed me. Slid her tongue over my lips. “Yum, indeed.”
She sat back down and grabbed up her fork.
I doctored my own pancakes and could barely wait to start taste testing. If they were anything like her cupcakes, I was going to demand she make these every morning.
I slid a bite in my mouth. The explosion of flavors was unlike anything I’d ever had. Minus, of course, the baker herself. The sharp, musky bite of cinnamon. The cooling sweet vanilla. It was us, our personalities, in a single delicious breakfast item.
I groaned. Shook my fork at the plate. “Yes.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “It’s not so bad, huh?” She scooped up another bite, slid it between her lips.
“Not bad? You should open a restaurant and serve nothing but this. You’d be an overnight success.”
“With just one menu item?” She laughed. “I can tell that you’ve never worked in the food industry.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Never. But, seriously, this is amazing.”
We finished the rest of our breakfast in relative quiet. It was good. Comfortable. Intimate. Perfect.
And I was going to ruin it.
I wiped my mouth after essentially licking the plate clean. “So, I really don’t want to ruin the mood.”
She smiled. “But…”
I nodded. “But I got a reminder notification in my calendar this morning, after you fell asleep in my arms, that the Chase Gala is on Friday.”
Her shoulders stiffened, her plush mouth firmed. “Yeah. And?”
I plunged ahead. “And…you know how I said I might have a plan for how to deal with your parents?”
She nodded. Waited me out.
I licked my lips. “If we can get it sorted and coordinated, I think we could take them down.” I paused a beat. “At their own gala.”
Her eyes lit with a glow that had my blood pressure rising. “I want to know everything.” She stacked our plates, carried them to the dishwasher. After giving them a good rinse, she turned to me. “Well, regale me so I can jump your bones. Offering to take my parents down is one of the nicest, sexiest things you could ever offer.”
A chuckle escaped. “Sometimes I forget that you’re just as cutthroat as I am. It’s very sexy.”
She batted her eyelashes. “We do aim to please, Mr. Penn.”
“We’re going to need the Amatuccis, my mom, Corrie, and Jerrod Wright to pull it off. Okay, so here’s the rough idea.”
Chapter 28 – Willow
That night
“Momma, you don’t have to cook when you come here, you know. You can just sit down and enjoy your family,” I