is that I gave up sex for Lent.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been inside a church. But I do remember that Lent ends at Easter.”
“Got me there,” she admitted cheerfully. “But, as I said last night, time moves at a different pace here on the island. We have another saying that the smiles you collect along the way are more important than the miles covered…
“Meanwhile, I’m going to make you a cup of the best coffee you’ve ever had. Then after breakfast, I have plans for you.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. At the moment, my plans don’t involve tangling any sheets. But we are going to get wet.”
After the erotic dream Nate had interrupted, the thought of the two of them breaking her sexual fast together was almost more than he could take before coffee.
“You don’t have to make me breakfast,” he said over the sound of dark beans being ground.
“It’s obvious you haven’t been eating properly,” she said as she put a large glass measuring cup of water in the microwave. “Last night was a start—”
“Your mother’s a fantastic cook.”
“Isn’t she? I can’t possibly live up to her kitchen skills, but I make a hell of an omelet.” She reached into another cupboard and retrieved a French press.
“Fancy,” Donovan said.
“These are peaberry beans,” she said. “They deserve royal treatment.”
“I thought Kona was the big coffee deal around these islands.”
“It is. And it’s fine enough. And these are actually Kona, but they’re extra special because unlike most beans, which grow together like connected twins, these make up the five-percent that are only children.”
She held out the small, round dark bean on the palm of her hand. “Since they get all Mother Nature’s attention while growing, they’re denser and sweeter. And also more expensive, because there’s no way to tell whether you’re dealing with doubles or singles inside the coffee cherry. So, each peaberry has to be plucked out by hand. But you’ll see that they’re worth the price.
“Which, by the way, you don’t have to worry about,” she said, as she measured the ground beans into the press, “because I charged them to Nate’s account. And before you argue about that, may I point out that you are, after all, not only his best friend but his guest, so I know he’d want you to have the very best.”
She added boiling water in stages, pressed the plunger to filter the grounds, poured the coffee into a white mug, put it in front of him, and stood there, arms crossed. “So tell me what you think.”
As the fragrance rose almost visibly upward, like in those Saturday morning cartoons Donovan had watched when his parents were out of town, he took a taste of the rich, dark brew. “I’m pretty certain I hear angels singing.”
“I told you.” Her pleased grin was like the sun bursting out from the dark and heavy clouds that had been hanging over his head for so long.
He took another, longer drink. “I’m beginning to rethink the marriage question. Especially if I could start every day with this.”
Which beat stopping by Starbucks on the way to work. Which had him thinking if Lani had been waiting at home with her French press, he may not have gotten run over on the way back from Tess’s townhouse that night of her bomb threat.
“It seems more practical to send you back to Portland after New Year’s Day with a grinder, a French press, and a bag of beans.”
“You’re right about the practicality. But the scenery’s a helluva lot better here.” Looking at her over the rim of the mug, his gaze moved over her tanned, bikini-clad body.
“I’ve always claimed Orchid Island is the prettiest of the Oceana group,” she said, purposefully missing his meaning as she broke three eggs into a bright yellow bowl. “Why don’t you take your shower while I make breakfast?”
A cold one, Donovan thought as he left the kitchen, headed toward the bathroom
“It’s been a while since I’ve been inside a church. But I do remember that Lent ends at Easter.”
“Got me there,” she admitted cheerfully. “But, as I said last night, time moves at a different pace here on the island. We have another saying that the smiles you collect along the way are more important than the miles covered…
“Meanwhile, I’m going to make you a cup of the best coffee you’ve ever had. Then after breakfast, I have plans for you.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. At the moment, my plans don’t involve tangling any sheets. But we are going to get wet.”
After the erotic dream Nate had interrupted, the thought of the two of them breaking her sexual fast together was almost more than he could take before coffee.
“You don’t have to make me breakfast,” he said over the sound of dark beans being ground.
“It’s obvious you haven’t been eating properly,” she said as she put a large glass measuring cup of water in the microwave. “Last night was a start—”
“Your mother’s a fantastic cook.”
“Isn’t she? I can’t possibly live up to her kitchen skills, but I make a hell of an omelet.” She reached into another cupboard and retrieved a French press.
“Fancy,” Donovan said.
“These are peaberry beans,” she said. “They deserve royal treatment.”
“I thought Kona was the big coffee deal around these islands.”
“It is. And it’s fine enough. And these are actually Kona, but they’re extra special because unlike most beans, which grow together like connected twins, these make up the five-percent that are only children.”
She held out the small, round dark bean on the palm of her hand. “Since they get all Mother Nature’s attention while growing, they’re denser and sweeter. And also more expensive, because there’s no way to tell whether you’re dealing with doubles or singles inside the coffee cherry. So, each peaberry has to be plucked out by hand. But you’ll see that they’re worth the price.
“Which, by the way, you don’t have to worry about,” she said, as she measured the ground beans into the press, “because I charged them to Nate’s account. And before you argue about that, may I point out that you are, after all, not only his best friend but his guest, so I know he’d want you to have the very best.”
She added boiling water in stages, pressed the plunger to filter the grounds, poured the coffee into a white mug, put it in front of him, and stood there, arms crossed. “So tell me what you think.”
As the fragrance rose almost visibly upward, like in those Saturday morning cartoons Donovan had watched when his parents were out of town, he took a taste of the rich, dark brew. “I’m pretty certain I hear angels singing.”
“I told you.” Her pleased grin was like the sun bursting out from the dark and heavy clouds that had been hanging over his head for so long.
He took another, longer drink. “I’m beginning to rethink the marriage question. Especially if I could start every day with this.”
Which beat stopping by Starbucks on the way to work. Which had him thinking if Lani had been waiting at home with her French press, he may not have gotten run over on the way back from Tess’s townhouse that night of her bomb threat.
“It seems more practical to send you back to Portland after New Year’s Day with a grinder, a French press, and a bag of beans.”
“You’re right about the practicality. But the scenery’s a helluva lot better here.” Looking at her over the rim of the mug, his gaze moved over her tanned, bikini-clad body.
“I’ve always claimed Orchid Island is the prettiest of the Oceana group,” she said, purposefully missing his meaning as she broke three eggs into a bright yellow bowl. “Why don’t you take your shower while I make breakfast?”
A cold one, Donovan thought as he left the kitchen, headed toward the bathroom
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