“Good morning,” she said. “I thought I’d bring you breakfast today.”
He was caught between elation to see her and anger that she’d barged in. Yeah, she was the owner and she had a key, but Christ. Wasn’t he entitled to a little privacy?
“Mia—”
“I know. I know. I shouldn’t have walked right in. But when you didn’t come to the door, I got worried.”
“You should have assumed I was working. I should have been up hours ago.”
“Harp told me you didn’t show up today. I told him you weren’t feeling well. I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds.”
“Overstep your bounds? Christ, yes, Mia, you overstepped your bounds. You’ve been overstepping your bounds since I got here. I was just about to call Harper. I would have looked like a damn fool.”
Her face fell. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. He could bear anything but that, her sadness. “No, no. It’s okay.” He swung his feet over the side of his bed. He was dressed only in boxers, but why stand on ceremony? They’d bared all to each other last night. And as much as he wished it weren’t, her face was a welcome sight. “I’d be happy to have breakfast with you.”
Her smile lit her beautiful features. “Wonderful. I’ll set it up at the kitchen table.”
“Okay. I’ll only be a minute.” He went to the bathroom and took care of business, brushed his teeth, and ran his fingers though his unruly hair. Well, what you see is what you get. He pulled a pair of jeans over his boxers. Didn’t bother with a shirt. The autumn air was fresh and warm.
He studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. A few lines creased his forehead and the outer edges of his eyes, and silver highlighted his dark hair. His shoulders were still broad and his arms still muscular, and thanks to the hard work on the farm—and admittedly, in the big house—he still had hard pecs and abs. Not bad for his age. Not bad at all.
But damn, he felt like a shithead. He’d walked out on Mia last night, and he hadn’t given her any clue why. How could he? She’d never understand. Hell, he didn’t understand half of it hi
mself.
No. That was a goddamned lie. He understood all too well. He’d never be whole again.
He sighed and walked out to the kitchen. Mia was dressed in denim capri pants and a pink blouse that highlighted her olive skin. She looked beautiful, of course. What had he expected?
She was setting out fresh biscuits and honey. “I’m warming the frittata in the microwave. It’ll be done—”
The bell on the microwave dinged.
“—now.” She pulled a plate of eggs out.
Jeff inhaled. Mmm. Smelled like ham and mushroom. His stomach growled. He was surprised he felt hungry. “Smells good.”
“Thanks. I hope you like it.” She opened the refrigerator. “Do you have any salsa?”
“Yeah, look inside the door.”
Maria grabbed it and set it on the table. “I’ll bring you some of my homemade salsa later. But this will do for now.” She opened a carafe of coffee she’d brought and poured two cups. “Come on. Sit down.”
Jeff obeyed.
Maria sat across from him. Distance—she was maintaining distance. It was as apparent as the sun in the sky.
She cleared her throat. “I want to apologize—”
“For barging into my house?”
“No.” She reddened. “I mean, yes, of course.”
God she was beautiful.
“But also for last night. I didn’t mean to…”