I tore my gaze from him and turned sharply towards the kitchen. "I make a killer omelet," I stammered.
Penn nodded and gave his belly a sleepy scratch. Then, he blinked and changed directions. "That sounds good. I'll be right back. Could you put the kettle on?"
I nodded and couldn't clear my throat until he was behind the closed door of the bathroom. I hadn't even turned on the stove and my body was already flooded with heat. I had to pull myself together.
I opened the refrigerator and was surprised to find it well stocked. I grabbed the eggs and refused to think about the tan width of Penn's naked shoulders.
"What's that you're singing?" Penn asked. He had pulled on a clean T-shirt, but was still barefoot.
"I was singing? Oh, um, just something I made up, I guess."
His dark eyes locked on mine, and I saw the golden flecks in the morning light. "Must be nice to have talent. You know, I could really see you making it as a singer. You've got the talent and the looks. Now you just need the passion."
I'm drowning in passion, I thought and gave my head a rueful shake. "I can't," I said. "I have to work."
Penn smiled. "I bet becoming a singer is work. Hard work. Is that what you're afraid of?"
"I love hard work," I snapped. He still saw me as a feckless girl who would choose easy, instant gratification. "I plan to work for everything I want."
"Good." He brushed by me to plug in an expensive coffee grinder. "I bet you could start at a few open mic nights, get a little buzz going, and then try out for a few bands. In San Francisco, it can't be hard to find a jazz trio that's looking for a frontwoman like you. You'll join up with the right combo and be the toast of the town, everyone falling at your feet while you carry on a steamy, music-inspired affair with the bassist."
His speculation trailed off as he punched the grind button harder than needed.
When he was done, I laughed. "I didn't know it was all so easy."
He shrugged. "It's not, but you find a way. You're already a step ahead of everyone else because you know what your talent is. You don't have to hope for it or search for it."
"Did you?"
He tugged at his beard. "I was raised to do one thing and when I broke away from that, it took me a long time to find the right direction. I was like you, thinking I needed to do what was practical first."
"That seems like the right decision if it got you here," I said.
Penn's eyes hardened into unfathomable agates. "This isn't what I want."
I shook my head. "Easy to say when you have it."
He tossed tablespoons of fresh coffee grounds into a French press and poured the hot water. Even though the process took a delicate touch, I could see the restrained anger in his movements. He wrenched open a kitchen cabinet, pulled out two fancy coffee mugs, and clattered them onto the counter.
I glanced towards the door. "Your omelet's ready. Thanks for the coffee, but I'm going to have to run."
"No, sorry, I'm just annoyed with myself," Penn said.
"It's okay. I've got to jump online and revamp my resume, get everything ready to apply to this big job. I really shouldn't be dragging my feet like this."
Penn scowled, but it was at his ringing phone instead of me. "Please, just don't rush off. I have to take this. There's a laptop in that drawer if you want to work over breakfast."
The relief I felt at hearing his words bowled me over. He wanted me to stay.
I took my coffee cup, careful not to slosh any, and sat down in one of the high stools on the other side of the kitchen island. Penn answered his phone and handed me the laptop with his free hand.
"Yes, I'm still here. No, it's not a good time."
I opened up my email, found my old resume, and pretended to pore over it as Penn talked. It was clearly his boss, but I still didn't understand the sharp, opposing tone he took every time they talked directly. I wondered if maybe Penn was a prodigy that Xavier Templeton had saved from some free-range, survivalist life.
"Maybe next time you won't cancel at the last minute and still expect me to show up," Penn snapped. He hung up the phone and slid it away across the granite kitchen island.
"Um, I think your computer needs an update. I can't download my resume," I said.