The next morning Lauren walked into the kitchen wearing Wyatt's t-shirt from yesterday and her sleep shorts. The shirt hung to mid-thigh on her, the fabric soft and smelling like him. It gave her comfort and made her feel safe.

Wyatt was already up, dressed in jeans and a black henley, standing at her stove flipping what looked like perfect golden pancakes. Lauren paused in the doorway, just watching him.

He glanced over his shoulder as if sensing her watching him and, in fact, caught her ...