ready before I woke up, and you cleaned up the mess that Sterling made last night.”
“Slugger needs to find another place to work,” he says out loud, but it sounds like an afterthought.
Is he planning on kicking the guy out of Tahoe before the weekend is over?
“His house is an accident waiting to happen,” he continues.
Well, he’s right. Sterling’s house should be condemned. This reminds me that we haven’t spoken about his business, my new role as his accountant, or my idea about buying or renting a space dedicated to his work. It’ll be an investment as much as a saving grace. He lives among torches and oxygen tanks. All in the name of art. I’m afraid that one of these days he’s going to blow himself up either while he’s working or sleeping.
“What smells so good?” Sterling climbs down the stairs.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I greet him, releasing Wes and glaring at his brother. “You’re not allowed to work in the kitchen.”
“I told you she’d get mad at you,” Wes chuckles.
“You didn’t have to pick up,” Sterling walks to the cupboard grabbing a mug and pouring some coffee.
“What the fuck is this?” He spits it over the sink and scrunches his nose.
He empties the cup and begins a new pot of coffee. “Are you two trying to kill me?”
“If you woke up a couple of hours ago, it’d be fresh and hot,” I say, grabbing the tongs from the drawer to serve the bacon and set the fried tortillas on the plate, waiting for Wes to add the eggs on top of them.
I should’ve fried the eggs. This guy can’t make sunny side up eggs to save his life.
His version of huevos rancheros is scrambled eggs on a fried tortilla with salsa. I love that he tries though. He might not be the next Iron Chef, but I adore that he’s willing to do anything for me. This breakfast describes him in a nutshell. If he can’t make it happen the way it’s supposed to be, he’ll find his own way. Nothing is impossible.
“What are your plans for today?” Sterling asks.
Wes and I look at each other and shrug. There aren’t any plans. We tried to come up with something last night that would include Sterling, but the only thing I really want to do is swim and read one of the thrillers in the library.
“We could go kayaking,” Wes offers.
I nod. “Or paddle boarding,” I offer.
“Surfing,” Sterling grins.
“You’d have to drive to California for that,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I would, but you moved away from the ocean.” He gives me a one-shoulder shrug.
Wes cracks his knuckles distractedly. Something is going on inside that head of his, and it involves Sterling. I just don’t know what’s on his mind.
“Wes, why don’t you sell me this house?” Sterling shuffles in his seat, straightening his back.
I gasp, my eyes widen. No, this house is my haven. Well, not mine, but I adore this place. It’s our sanctuary.
“Do you need a realtor?” I speak before Wes has a chance.
“This is her place,” Wes says, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
“Ugh, it’s happening already. I’m becoming the third wheel,” Sterling says, taking a bite of his eggs. “Have you told Mom about this?”
I hold my breath, waiting for Wes’ reply. I haven’t dared to mention it. Each time we’re on the phone, we discuss her new friends, her sister, and her traveling plans. Sooner or later we’re sitting down to talk about her finances. I doubt she needs me to keep her checkbook. If I could choose, I’d just spend my time with the grants that Ahern Inc. provides to various charities.
“She likes to know what’s going on with baby Wes,” Sterling says in a mocking voice.
“Does she have to know about it?” I squeeze my eyes shut.
Linda is lovely, but a meddler. She likes to give unsolicited advice and know every detail of my dates. I can hear her already, asking about our relationship. I’m mortified just thinking about the conversation and her questions. Will she give me the sex talk again? I cover my eyes with the heels of my hands. God, what if she asks me about her son, just like she did when I went out on my first date?
“Did he know how to pleasure you?”
I had no idea what to answer.
“It’s important to talk about likes and dislikes. You deserved to have an orgasm, just like him.”
“Is everything okay?” Wes asks.
“She’s blushing. I bet Mom’s had the sex talk with