That didn’t surprise her. Heck, she’d seen plenty of them. And speaking of . . .
Heather glanced at the clock on her wall. “Hey, how long until your mom gets here to make pancakes? That’s what she does for your one-night stands, right?”
Josh groaned. “Trust me when I say that is not how I was hoping that morning was going to go.”
“What, your mom catching you in the act?”
“She just caught the aftermath, thank God.”
“So the pancakes aren’t typical.”
“God, no. Usually I just offer cereal only to tell them that I’m out of milk if they say yes.”
“Are you actually out of milk?”
“Hardly ever.”
Heather shook her head. “Josh.”
“What? It’s not like I promised them breakfast in bed when I invited them over. They know the score.”
Heather wondered if there was a hidden message there. A gentle reminder that Heather too should know the score and not expect anything more than he wanted to give.
Heather leaned forward, cupping her mug in both hands as she waited for him to meet her eyes.
He did so, warily. “You look like you’re about to give a speech.”
“I am, so listen up and take notes if you need to. I meant what I said last night. I’m not reading too much into what happened. I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to watch you sleep. I didn’t punch holes in all the condoms in hopes of having your love baby—”
Josh laughed. “Jesus, 4C.”
She leveled him with a look. “I am, however, hungry. Your mom’s not here to make us pancakes, I’m not making pancakes, and I don’t want your stupid cereal.”
“Pie?” he asked hopefully.
“I was thinking more like brunch,” she said. “I hardly ever get to go out to brunch. The wedding business almost never provides a free weekend, and the Belles have an event-free day today before all post-holiday hell breaks loose tomorrow.”
He said nothing, and she felt a flicker of disappointment. “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she said quietly. “I’m perfectly happy going to brunch on my own. I have zero qualms about drinking mimosas by myself.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “I know just the place. The hash browns are straight from heaven, and the French toast is stuffed with mascarpone, if that’s your thing.”
“Really?” She didn’t bother to hide her happiness. “You want to go with me?”
“Of course,” he said, standing and finishing the last bit of his coffee. “What better way to listen to you talk about how I was the best sex you ever had?”
Heather pursed her lips as she watched him amble into the kitchen, all broad shoulders and trim waist.
“I don’t hear any denials,” he said.
“I’m not going to feed your voracious ego,” she said climbing to her feet. “So don’t hold your breath.”
“I don’t suppose you’d let me go to the gym before brunch?” he asked hopefully.
“You watch your mouth,” she said as she headed toward the bathroom to shower. “I’m leaving in thirty minutes. You’ll have to decide what you want more, to bench-press or that French toast.”
“What about sex?” he called after her. “Is that on the table?”
“Seriously? We went at it, like, four times.” She tugged the tank top over her head, unsurprised to see him watching her.
“How about five?” he said, his eyes locked on her bare breasts.
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely,” he said, giving her a crooked smile as he ambled toward her, hooking a hand behind her neck and forcing her to look up.
His eyes dropped to her mouth. “You’re the best I’ve ever had, too, you know.”
Heather’s heart flipped, and her lust-addled brain clung to the hope that it wasn’t a line. “I never confirmed you were the best,” she teased.
Josh rubbed a thumb over her lip. “If you’re still unsure, I think I know a way I can convince you.”
“How’s that?”
Josh backed her into the bathroom. “Time to make good on my threat of shower sex.”