Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,97

had smelled when he’d been in the bathroom. He’d thought he was hallucinating at the time.

Good to know he wasn’t and all the better because of the man working diligently in his kitchen.

Yep, Brantley loved this man. He missed him when he wasn’t around, thought about him even when he was. He knew it was time they took the next step in their relationship and he only hoped Reese would be on board with his plan.

Pausing to admire the man in his kitchen, Brantley watched as Reese moved easily between the stove and the island, prepping one of his delicious meals. He noticed Reese’s dark hair was getting longer, a little shaggier on the top, but it was a good look for him. He was sporting his regular attire: a T-shirt (today’s was dark blue) that accentuated his finely toned upper body, jeans that encased a rather impressive ass, and boots that gave him that country-boy vibe. Reese truly was a fine specimen.

And yes, Brantley was overcome with the same desire to strip the man naked that he experienced every time he saw him.

Yet he refrained.

“What’s this?” he asked, going for nonchalant as he moved closer to the island.

Reese looked up, grinned, and that sexy smirk made his lips itch to kiss him.

Again, he refrained.

“Good mornin’,” Reese greeted.

“It’s definitely headin’ that direction, sure,” he replied, moving over so he could greet Reese appropriately.

A quick peck on the mouth was all he could get in before Reese was back to finishing up the meal.

“Can I help?”

“Yes. You can have a seat at the table.”

Brantley looked around. “The table?”

“Outside.”

Ah. Right. The only table he had was on the patio.

Because it was clear Reese didn’t need help, Brantley headed outside. The sky was just beginning to lighten as the sun peeked at the horizon, which explained why the porch lights were on. He came to a stop when he saw there was a white linen tablecloth on the table, as well as a decanter of orange juice, another of iced water. There were glasses, silverware, napkins, even a candle.

Reese had gone all out and Brantley wasn’t sure what this was for. Didn’t mean he wasn’t appreciative, but more accurately, he was curious.

So he sat.

And waited.

When Reese appeared, he was carrying two plates filled to overflowing with all of Brantley’s favorites. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, southern-style biscuits, gravy.

Despite his stomach’s rather excited rumble, Brantley looked over at Reese.

“What’s this?” he asked, repeating the same question he’d asked earlier.

“This is me takin’ you out for breakfast,” Reese said seriously, his golden gaze looking more vulnerable than Brantley had ever seen. “I know it’s not a real date, I know it’s not at a restaurant where people’ll wait on us and we can chat it up while the courses are delivered. Consider it a do-over.”

That was when Brantley understood. Reese was attempting to make up for the clusterfuck of a date that they’d had.

Brantley glanced at the table, took it all in, then looked over at Reese. “This is better than any restaurant, Reese. Like I told you before, I don’t need to flaunt this thing we’ve got to the world. I’m happy. Just the two of us.”

Reese smiled, as though relieved to hear that.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t frequent the diner,” Reese told him.

“Of course not.” Although Brantley would be the first to say Reese’s breakfast was far better than theirs. “So, can I dig in now? Or’d you have somethin’ else on the agenda?”

“Yes, you can eat.” Reese chuckled. “And I’ll just grab the coffee. Be right back.”

Brantley didn’t dig in, choosing rather to wait for Reese. While the man slipped inside, Brantley poured orange juice into glasses, his gaze skimming the table, realizing the effort that Reese had put into this. Brantley hadn’t been lying when he told him this was better than a date. It was. Because Reese wasn’t anxious and Brantley wasn’t trying to soothe him. This was their comfort zone, where they could relax, be themselves. That was all that mattered when it came to dates, right?

He heard the door being slid closed, followed by Reese’s footsteps. Two cups of coffee were placed on the table, but before Reese could sit, Brantley surged to his feet. He grabbed Reese’s hand, pulled him in for a kiss. Not the sweet, chaste kind he’d gotten in the kitchen. No, Brantley devoured the man, cupping the back of his neck, holding him firmly.

When he managed to release that delectable mouth, Brantley pressed his forehead