Not because I wanted to but I was drawn to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. It’s my crack. Barefooted, I moved silently down the hallway. My mother’s door was closed, but obviously she’d gotten up to make coffee. As I rounded the corner, I came to a stop mid-stride. There, standing in my kitchen was a half-dressed man with a cell phone pressed to his ear. “Thank you. Good-bye,” he said quickly, then Deacon offered me a smile. Then he did something creepy. His eyes looked me up and down, making me feel like I needed a shower. That wasn’t an option, but I did excuse myself and get the robe I rarely wore. When I returned to the kitchen, he said, “Good morning. I’m sorry if I startled you.” “Not a problem,” I lied. “I was just bringing your mother some coffee in bed.” “That’s very nice of you.” Even nicer if the two of you didn’t play house in my house. The hair on his chest was white but other than that he seemed pretty toned for a guy in his sixties. I could tell since all he’d bothered to put on was a pair of boxers and a leer.
