Free Wait for You by J. Lynn Page B

entered my apartment, carrying something wrapped in tinfoil, a carton of eggs— huh ?—and a tiny frying pan. “Cam, what are you doing? It’s eight in the morning.”
    “Thanks for the update on the time.” He headed straight for my kitchen. “It’s one thing I’ve never been able to master: the telling of time.”
    I frowned as padded after him. “Why are you here?”
    “Making breakfast.”
    “You can’t do that in your own kitchen?” I ask, scrubbing at my eyes. After the astronomy assignment and the phone call, he was the last person I wanted to see at a buttcrack time in the morning.
    “My kitchen isn’t as exciting as yours.” He put his stuff on the counter and faced me. His hair was damp and curlier than normal. How was it possible for him to look so good when it was obvious he’d just rolled out of bed and showered? There wasn’t even a dusting of morning scruff on his smooth cheeks. And he made sweats and a plain old tee shirt look damn good.   “And Ollie is passed out on the living room floor.”
    “On the floor?”
    “Yep. Face down, snoring and drooling a little. It’s not an appetizing atmosphere.”
    “Well, neither is my apartment.” He needed to go. He had no business being here.
    Cam leaned against my counter, folding his arms. “Oh, I don’t know about that…” His gaze moved from the top of my disheveled head and all the way down to the tips of my curled toes. It was like a physical touch, causing my breath to catch. “Your kitchen, right this second, is very appetizing.”
    A flush crawled across my cheeks. “I’m not going out with you, Cam.”
    “I didn’t ask you at this moment, now did I?” One side of his lips curved up. “But you will eventually.”
    My eyes narrowed. “You’re delusional.”
    “I’m determined.”
    “More like annoying.”
    “Most would say amazing.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Only in your head.”
    “In many heads is what you meant,” he replied, turning back to my stove. “I also brought banana nut bread baked in my very own oven.”  
    Shaking my head, I glared at his back. “I’m allergic to bananas.”
    Cam spun around, brows raised in disbelief. “Are you shitting me?”
    “No. I’m not. I’m allergic to bananas.”
    “Man, that’s a damn shame. You have no idea what you’re missing out on. Bananas make the world a better place.”
    “I wouldn’t know.”
    He cocked his head to the side. “Anything else you’re allergic to?”
    “Besides penicillin and guys who bust up into my apartment? No.”
    “Hardy-har-har,” he replied, dipping down as he started opening cabinets. “How many weaker, less assured guys have you slayed with that tongue of yours?”
    “Apparently not enough,” I muttered. I went to adjust my bracelet and realized I wasn’t wearing it. My heart dropped. “I’ll be right back.”
    Humming to himself, Cam nodded. I darted back to my bedroom and grabbed the bracelet off the nightstand and slipped it on. A shudder of relief went through me. Halfway out of the bedroom, I glanced down and cursed again.
    No bra.  
    The thin material of my shirt stretch taut across my chest and my nipples were poking out, saying hello. “Oh, Jesus.”
    Tossing the shirt off, I grabbed a sports bra out of my dresser.  
    “Hey! Are you hiding back there?” yelled Cam. “Because I will come back there and drag you out.”
    Sports bra stuck around my head and breasts bouncing everywhere, I blanched. I yanked it down, smushing my right boob. Ow! “Don’t you dare come in here!”
    “Then hurry up. My eggs wait for no one.”
    “Oh my God,” I muttered, pulling my shirt back on. I made it to the hallway before I then realized I also hadn’t brushed my teeth. Cam and his eggs were going to have to wait.  
    When I returned to the kitchen, he had several eggs boiling in water, and a perfect sunny side up egg in the little frying pan he’d brought. He’d found the bag of shredded cheese in my fridge and was