Julia's POV
Morning light filtered through the bedroom window, but Gavin had already slipped out of bed without disturbing me. The sound of movement from the kitchen drew me from sleep, along with an unexpected aroma that made my stomach growl.
I stumbled toward the source of the smell, still half-asleep, and found Gavin standing at the stove without a shirt, expertly working the skillet like he belonged there.
"What exactly are you doing?" I mumbled, still wiping sleep from my eyes.
He glanced over his shoulder with that trademark cocky smile. "Feeding my woman. What does it look like?"
I dropped into a chair at the counter, skeptical. "Since when do you cook anything?"
"There's a difference between can't cook and don't cook," he said, sliding a perfectly golden pancake onto my plate with obvious pride.
I took a cautious bite, chewing thoughtfully while watching his expectant face. "Okay, I'll admit it. This is actually good."
