The sizzle of bacon in the kitchen caught her unaware and she turned to see Huck’s bare back as he flipped a piece over. There were scratches down his infraspinatus muscles, disappearing beneath his black sweatpants. He turned, his eyes a tawny brown in the early light. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” She moved for her clothing. “I won’t be long.”

He turned and used tongs to place the bacon on a paper towel. “I made breakfast and have coffee on. Come eat.”

Coffee? Her mouth watered. She hesitated and then walked to the small round table by another sliding glass door, where he’d already placed scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice, coffee, and plates. “Thank you.”

He chuckled and put the tray of bacon in the center of the table. “This is about all I can cook, so enjoy.” He reached into the fridge and brought out peppermint-flavored creamer. “I think this is still good.” His feet and chest were bare and his hair ruffled, and in the morning light, he looked younger, even with the scruff on his jaw. Perhaps freer. He sat.

The sex had been good for both of them. Mentally as well as physically. She relaxed and reached for the creamer, then sipped her coffee with a small hum of enjoyment. “I was not expecting breakfast.” In fact, she wasn’t expecting anything.

He paused with a piece of bacon halfway to his mouth and then put it back on his plate. “Are we still fighting?”

“No. I would like to ask you to refrain from speaking with reporters for the remainder of this case.” The toast was slightly burned in a way that melted the butter perfectly.

He sat back in his chair, his gaze still lazy with a hint of intent. “Agreed.”

“Good.” One more obstacle out of the way.

His smile revealed a rarely present dimple in his right cheek. “You know, you’re even more beautiful when you’re angry.”

She liked his dorky side. “That’s a lovely cliché,” she said, digging into the scrambled eggs covered in cheddar cheese.

“Do we need to talk about this? About last night?” He swept a large hand out. “You’re very likeable, but I feel like we should concentrate on finding this killer and not start something up right this second.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Most people don’t like me.” They were intrigued by her, sometimes enjoyed her, but she wasn’t accustomed to people actually liking her. Oh, they didn’t dislike her, but she was difficult to understand or relate to sometimes.

“Most people do like you, but you remain unaware of that fact if they don’t say the words.” He took a bite of his eggs.

Interesting. “I am rather literal,” she agreed, her heart warming. It was nice to be liked.