Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Yeah, yeah. We’re all a bunch of old men. I’m a dad and planning a wedding; what’s your excuse?”
“My brother is here, probably soon to follow in your footsteps with the wife and kid, no doubt.” I shook my head and looked around Kayla’s kitchen, pulling eggs and milk from the fridge and a large mixing bowl from one of the cabinets. “How are the twins?”
“Good. They go to bed early and get up even earlier, which is why I didn’t give you any shit for calling me at the ass crack of morning.”
“You have a way with words, you know that, Rox?”
He grinned. “Yeah, I’m a real poet. So what’s up? Stuck on a song hook or somethin’?”
“Nah, actually I’ve got a few songs that I need to perfect. I’m calling because”—I blew out a breath and shut my eyes, bracing myself for the shit he would give me when I made my request—“I need your omelet recipe.”
He laughed. “Nostalgic for the old days when we traveled by bus and I made omelets for the band?”
“Always,” I lied easily. I did miss those days, but that wasn’t the whole truth.
Rox looked like a dumb blonde, but he wasn’t. “You never cook for yourself.”
“It’s not just for me,” I admitted reluctantly.
“A woman? Holy shit, Mac Lancaster, the man who never even cooks for himself is cooking for a woman!” He laughed loud and long, the bastard. “Wow, she must be some babe. Model? Princess? Ambassador to Amazonia?”
I bit back a smile and rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “She’s a doctor, actually. Emergency medicine.”
Rox laughed again. “Only you could find a nerdy adrenaline junkie.”
“Her name is Kayla, and she’s as hot as she is smart—and completely out of my league.” I knew it even if she didn’t.
“Damn, man, I never thought I’d see the day.” He paused to quiet one of the twins. “Mama is sleepin’,” he whispered. “I’ll send you the recipe. Let me know how it goes.”
“I will, and thanks.”
“Good luck,” he offered before ending the call.
“You’re here.” Kayla’s voice was quiet and filled with surprise.
I turned to see her in a skimpy red cotton gown, sexy yet practical—just like the woman herself. My gaze raked over her full breasts and hard nipples, down her nipped-in waist and long, shapely legs. “You thought I left?”
She shrugged and looked away. “The bed was cold, and, well, I wasn’t sure.”
I knew what she was saying, and I understood. I had a reputation for a reason; I didn’t do serious, and I was usually gone before the sun came up, even if the fun took place in my hotel suite. “I’m making breakfast. You looked so peaceful and sexy sleeping; I didn’t want to wake you.”
She smiled at the compliment, cheeks flushed, and walked into the kitchen. “You don’t have to make me breakfast.”
I stopped, wondering if maybe I’d misread the signs. “You want me to leave?”
“No,” she sighed, making her way to the coffee pot. “I’m just saying that you’re not obligated to make me breakfast.” Her eyes slid shut, and she moaned as the first sip of coffee hit her tongue. “The coffee, however, is much appreciated.” She raised her mug with a smile.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Doc; keeping your energy up is very much my obligation. It’s a very, very selfish obligation, I assure you.” I wiggled my brows, and she laughed.
“In that case, thank you.” She grabbed plates and silverware, setting the table while I followed Rox’s instructions to the letter. “Where’d the fruit come from?”
Kayla licked her lips and smiled. “Well, you see, some come from trees and others from bushes. They’re grown all over the world.”
“Thanks for that, Dr. Smart Ass.” I shook my head, still smiling as we took our seats and dug into the omelets. “This recipe, this exact one, is what I pretty much lived on in the early days of Lancaster. Rox always had a hot plate on the bus and made them for lunch and dinner almost every day.”
Her pretty eyes widened. “Every day,” she sighed. “The cholesterol.”
“Listen, Doc, I said almost every day.” I shrugged. “It was cheap and something we could eat quickly on the way to a gig, which we almost always were.”
“You miss those days, just a little.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation delivered with a small smile.
“In a way, yes. All of us and our equipment crammed onto a bus where we ate, shit, and slept—lived whenever we weren’t playing; it was a chaotic mess. But without that, we wouldn’t appreciate all that we have now. Plus, those were some damn good times.”
Her smile was radiant. “Omelets and rock songs—sounds like a country song,” she laughed, finishing off her omelet. “Thank you, Mac; that was incredible.”
My phone rang, and when I saw the name and face on the screen, I smiled before answering the call on speakerphone. “Hey Rox, the omelet was a hit.”