Page 48 of Craig

That had brought on a bone-crushing shoulder hug that had him crying "uncle."

Slowly, he unclenched his fists and took several deep breaths. This was the reason he had not returned to the cabin: the painful memories.

Turning away from the rose-tinted sky, he went to take a shower and got dressed.

Coffee. He wanted to feel human again.

*****

The weak sunlight streaming through the windows reminded Regina that she had forgotten to close the curtains. Sitting up, she rubbed her hands over her eyes and blinked the last remnants of sleep before getting up.

Coffee, she decided as she stumbled towards the bathroom.

He was not up yet, which would give her some time to compose herself and play it cool. Completing her morning ritual of creaming her skin and oiling her scalp, she bundled up the thick locks and wrapped them into a careless knot on top of her head.

No makeup, she mused as she peered at her skin critically. The lack of sleep had done nothing to mar her complexion or give away the fact that she had had a restless night.

She selected a lime green top with thin straps crisscrossing at the back and cargo pants that rode low at her hips. Adding a few bangles, she considered herself ready to face the day.

She would make breakfast. He had brought in supplies.

Some pancakes: she had caught sight of fresh strawberries and cinnamon.

She hadn't eaten much and was starving. She had also seen the treadmill in one of the rooms.

A glance out the window showed that the sun was peeking through the rain clouds.

And the sunrise! Her breath caught as she hurried to the window.

It was striking. She had to admit that living in the city did not give her a chance to admire and appreciate nature like this.

It was something an artist would capture and had her wishing she could draw a straight line.

Stepping back, she went to find some tennis shoes to complete the ensemble.

The scent hit her as soon as she opened the door. Pausing on the landing, she had to steady herself, with one hand on the banister as she tried to revise her approach.

So, he was up and had put coffee on. And bacon.

She could smell it sizzling.

Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly down the stairs.

He was wearing a sleeveless tee that left his arms bare and was standing at the stove, flipping pancakes. Strawberry pancakes.

Strips of bacon nestled on paper towel to drain the excess oil. The coffee pot was full, and he was listening to something bluesy on his phone, the volume turned down low.

As if sensing her presence, he turned, jade green eyes searching her face. It threw her composure to hell.

"You read my mind." She gestured to the meal he was preparing.

"Huh?"

"I had every intention of making pancakes."

"I felt the strongest urge for it and decided what the hell. Coffee is ready. Sit."

He jerked his head towards the table tucked under the window, which was already set.