My Life In Ruins

6. If We Were Going To Hawaii, You Would Totally Get Lei'd

I rolled my eyes - thanking my lucky stars that it was still dark enough in the hallway that he couldn't see the blush that crept up onto my cheeks - and smacked his shoulder.  "Perv," I said, and started walking down the hallway again to the back stairs that led down into the kitchen. 

Max followed me downstairs.  I could still feel his eyes on me, but I tried to just ignore it.  It was kind of hard, though. 

When we got to the kitchen, I walked to where the coffeemaker was sitting on the granite countertop and turned it on.  Brielle had apparently put the water in it the night before, so it automatically started brewing.  Sighing, knowing that I'd have to wait a few minutes for it to finish, I jumped up onto the countertop and sat beside it.  I looked over at Max, who was looking at me, and cocked an eyebrow. 

"What?" I asked. 

He shook his head and walked toward the refrigerator.  "You mind if I find something to make for breakfast?" he asked, his hand hovering over the handle.

I shrugged.  "I don't care, just as long as you make me some, too," I said.

He smiled.  "Of course," he said. 

I watched as he dug around in the fridge for a few moments until he finally pulled out the carton of eggs, a block of cheese, and a bag of spinach. 

"Spinach and cheese omelet sound good?" he asked, looking over at me before he shut the refrigerator door. 

I nodded, watching as he moved toward the stovetop. 

He looked over at me.  "Pan?" he asked. 

"In the bottom cabinet to the left," I said, pointing toward it. 

Once he had the pan out and on the stove, I watched as he cracked the eggs into a bowl and scramble them up before pouring them into the pan.  After a few minutes of watching him cook, he set a plate down beside me as I sat on the counter with my fresh cup of coffee in hand.  Picking up the pan, he slid the huge omelet onto it as steam rose into the air above it. 

"Looks good," I said, looking up at him. 

It did look pretty good.  Brielle always told me that I should find a man who knew how to cook.  And if I did, he was a keeper.  At least I knew she followed the rule since my dad was an excellent cook. 

"My father's a gourmet chef and owns his own restaurant," he said, searching for the drawer with the silverware.  After I pointed him in the right direction, he handed me a fork.  Apparently we would be sharing the huge omelet. 

When I took the first bite, I closed my eyes and moaned.  "God, that's good," I said.

I heard Max laugh and I opened my eyes to see him looking at me.  "You like it?" he asked.

"Thanks," he said, laughing again.  "My mother said that I should learn how to cook because apparently girls like guys who can."

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.  At least Brielle wasn't the only one who said that. 

"What?" he asked, taking a bite of his omelet. 

I shook my head.  "Nothing, it's just that Brielle says the same thing.  She follows that rule, too, because my dad can cook also.  She says that I have to find a guy that can cook.  Apparently that's a trait in a man I'm supposed to look for."

Max was looking down at the omelet as he cut himself another bite.  He looked like he was thinking about something, though I didn't know what.  Maybe he was thinking about what I said.  Maybe he was thinking about...

"So what should we wear on the plane?" he asked suddenly, changing the subject. 

"Um," I said, getting out of my trance.  "Well, we're going to the south and it's always hot down there in August.  I'm going to wear something cool and comfortable, like shorts, a tank top, and flip flops.  If I wear anything other than that, I know I'll regret it.  And since we're going to the coast, it'll be pretty humid also, which is going to be torture in combination with the heat.  Too bad Dad couldn't pick a treasure to look for and it would take us to Hawaii.  I'd love to go lay out on those beaches.  We haven't been there in a year or so.  It was so much fun."

"I've never been," he said, smiling, and took another bite of the omelet.  He pushed the plate toward me.  "You can have the rest of this.  I'm going to take a quick shower before we leave."

I smiled at him, cutting a little of the omelet.  "Thanks for making breakfast," I said.  "It was excellent."

He winked at me.  "You're welcome," he said.

I watched his beautiful back as he walked back toward the stairs.  Just as he was about to step up onto the first step, Brielle appeared.

"Oh, good morning, Max," she said.  I saw her eyes skim over him and I smirked.

"Good morning, Brielle," he said as he passed her on the stairs.

She watched him walk up the stairs before she finally walked into the kitchen.  She paused when she saw me still sitting on the counter, finishing the omelet Max made.  Looking down at me in my skimpy pajamas, she smirked.

"Well, it seems like you've already had a good morning."

I smiled widely, nodding.  "Oh, yeah.  Had a guy make me breakfast and got to enjoy the view watching him do it also.  I'd say it was an excellent morning."

Brielle cocked an eyebrow.  "He can cook?" she asked.  I knew exactly what she was thinking. 

"Yep," I said, jumping off the counter to put the plate in the dishwasher.  "His dad taught him because he's a gourmet chef with his own restaurant.  Apparently his mom know that you need to find a guy who's a good cook also."

"Smart woman," she said, laughing.

I skipped to her side and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  "Well, I'm going to get dressed," I said, and ran up the stairs. 

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