Touchdown - Leslie North Page 0,24

Jill headed downstairs, steeling herself for the inevitable interaction downstairs. She found the triplets tucked into their high chairs in the breakfast nook, already served with their portion cups of Cheerios and strawberry slices.

Maxwell, wearing a sleeveless workout shirt, those big, muscled arms on display, looked bleary-eyed but content.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she said, trying to sound like last night hadn’t happened at all and she’d never pulled the girlfriend card when she didn’t deserve to.

He offered a half-smile with slitted eyes. “Morning. It’s awfully bright today.”

“Might need some sunglasses for the kitchen,” she said, heading to the fruit basket on the counter. Just as she reached for a banana, Maxwell slapped at her hand.

“Don’t. I made you breakfast.”

She lifted a brow, twisting to look at him. “You what now?”

“You were salty last night. So I made you breakfast.” His cocksure smile, though tired, was back on his face, sending her belly into flutters again.

So he hadn’t forgotten, nor was he content to just pretend last night in the hallway hadn’t happened. Great.

“That’s nice of you,” she said, easing into a seat near the kids’ high chairs. They were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed—as always at this hour. “I’ll need the extra fuel since I slept about three hours.”

His back faced her as he tended the stove. “I didn’t know you’d be up worrying about me.”

She wilted a little as she helped Kevin stab a piece of strawberry with his toddler fork. “I didn’t know I would be either.”

Silence stretched between them, though she wasn’t sure if it was tense or friendly. At this point, nothing made sense to her. Nothing other than how badly she wanted to run her hands over the sturdy mountains of his biceps and bring him into her bedroom. Where they might be able to stay for the rest of the day.

“I guess I was just imagining the worst. And then when I couldn’t sleep, I was stressing about that too. Thinking about how bad the workday was gonna be. Thinking about how you were out being a normal guy. Vicious cycle,” she said.

He turned to face her. “A normal guy?”

“Well, yeah. A single guy like you at some swanky soiree like that.” She swallowed hard, unsure what else to add that wouldn’t completely betray the fact that she was desperate to get on top of this man—or under him. Either one was fine for starters.

“You were jealous?”

Panic spread through her. How did he know? It was like he could hear the whispers of her heart, and she hated it. “I…I mean…yeah. I guess.”

He nodded sagely, turning back to the stove. They didn’t speak for a few moments, the silence growing more and more blatant between them. She felt so called-out. So seen. So embarrassed. He could tell she was falling for him.

“I guess I just saw all those pretty girls in the background and thought, wow, there he is, living the life,” she went on. The early morning combined with the sleepless night created a special delirium where honesty simmered close to the surface. The words were just rolling out of her now. “I know I don’t have any rights to you, Maxwell. But seeing all those pretty ladies around you…I guess I just figured…” She trailed off. The honesty could only take her so far.

Maxwell turned off the stove and plated the food. He came to the table with two steaming plates of scrambled eggs and toast, with slices of avocado on the side. She smiled up at him; this was kindness on a plate. Literally.

“Thank you,” she said.

“So you’re jealous that I went out without you,” he said, sliding into the chair next to her, scooting extra close so that their arms brushed. Electricity rippled down her spine. “I thought you meant you were jealous that I got to go out at all.”

Realization seared through her. Oh shit. Oh shit. They’d been talking about being jealous of two different things. Which meant she’d outed herself. Big time.

“Then maybe that’s what I meant—”

“No, no, I want to talk about this,” he insisted.

“Maxwell,” she started, but couldn’t find the words to follow it up. She pressed a hand to the side of her face as she dug into her food so that he couldn’t see her face or read her embarrassment.

“Jill.” He touched her wrist, gently easing her hand away. But Cameron chose that moment to toss his cup of strawberry over the side of his high chair, which prompted tears.

“Oh, come on, buddy,” Maxwell said, rising