“You seem a little cranky this morning. Why don’t you go back to sleep for a while. Maybe you’ll feel better when you wake up.”
“I’m not cranky! I don’t want to go back to sleep.” He pouted. Why was he pouting? Joe was right—he was being cranky. Dammit.
Joe gave him a pointed look. “There’s that face again.”
“What face!” After an exasperated sigh, Tom decided it best he take a deep breath and assess the situation. Somewhere, something went awry, and after backtracking a moment, he realized that something was him. “Okay, maybe I am a little cranky this morning. I’m sorry.” What the hell had gotten into him? He wasn’t normally prone to angry outbursts. Was he? No, he was sure he wasn’t. Aw, hell, he didn’t even know which way he was facing anymore, and that wasn’t good for either of them.
“What’s wrong?” Joe cleaned his hands on a paper towel and turned to him, all patience and understanding, making Tom feel like a jerk.
“It’s just so damn irritating,” he said. “Every time I feel I might be on the verge of remembering something, that cloud—that fuzzy image of colors, shapes, and sounds pulsing in my mind’s eye—just stops and stays there, floating and taunting me. Like a melody you can hear clearly in your head but can’t quite remember the lyrics or the voice that goes with it. I thought I’d find something in my jacket that would put me on the right track to remembering who I am. Maybe something we missed in the lining.” He shook his head. “Nothing but dirt.”
“Yeah, you were kind of covered in the stuff. It was in your pockets too. Thought I’d gotten all of it. I’m sorry, Tom. We’ll find a lead. You’ll see. Getting yourself worked up and frustrated isn’t going to do you any good, all right? Some hot breakfast, good coffee, and you’ll be all set for sleuthing. I’ll see to it that Bea whips up something special for us. Then we can come back up here, grab my laptop, and see what we can find.”
How did the man do that? A few words and Tom felt like he could take on the world. If Joe told him it would be okay, Tom had no doubts that it would be. He found himself feeling lighthearted again.
“Thanks, Joe.”
“No problem,” Joe replied with a sweet smile that made Tom’s pulse quicken. Then he realized what Joe said.
“Us? You mean you haven’t had breakfast yet?”
Joe’s cheeks flushed while he went back to his ingredients. “No, I thought it’d be best if we had breakfast together. You know, to make it easier for Bea,” he explained feebly, not tearing his gaze away from the table. “Less for her to worry about.”
Joe waiting to eat breakfast had nothing to do with convenience. Tom held back a smile. “Thanks.”
Joe nodded, going back to his baking, and Tom went back to watching him, mesmerized by Joe’s graceful hands as he stirred the mixture, adding dashes and drops of various ingredients, a faraway look coming onto his handsome face, one he seemed to get when involved with his pies.
Despite the daydreaming, Joe’s hands never missed a beat, and he scooped the filling into the piecrust. Once it was all in, he removed his gloves and swiped his finger along the inside of the bowl. Tom nearly fell off his chair when Joe sucked and licked his finger, completely oblivious to how incredibly arousing the gesture was. Down, boy.
After scooping up some more filling, Joe started to move his finger to his mouth when Tom caught his wrist, snapping him out of his little trance. Looking from his finger to Tom, Joe cocked his head to one side in question. Tom didn’t say a word. He let every bit of his hunger show in his eyes as he very deliberately drew Joe’s finger into his mouth, provoking the gorgeous man to draw a sharp breath. The ocean of his blue-green eyes grew stormy while he stood transfixed by Tom’s tongue as it ran over the gooey, red digit. A tremor went through Joe, and Tom grinned wickedly.
“Mm, do you always taste so fruity?”
Joe arched an eyebrow. “Is that a bad pun? Because if it is, you’re cute, but you’re not that cute.”
Tom laughed. He had an overwhelming urge to kiss Joe, but that would be a bad idea. Reining in his wayward thoughts, he averted his gaze. “Thanks for washing my clothes.”
Joe fidgeted with his apron before turning back to his ingredients. “No problem.”
“JOE? Where are you?”
“Oh!” Joe smiled brightly and turned toward the door. “We’re in here, Jules.”
Tom watched curiously as the kitchen door opened and a petite, young woman with soft red curls stepped in. When she saw Joe, she dropped her backpack on the floor and flung herself into his arms.
“It’s so good to see you!”
Jules was pretty, dressed in jeans and a deep green band T-shirt that brought out her big emerald eyes. Her fiery hair and her crimson lipstick sharp against her pale skin, and she was curvy in all the right places. When she saw Tom observing her, she pulled away from Joe and extended a hand to him. “You must be Joe’s new friend.”