Mayans, MC Collection

FRONT PORCH Angel Reyes (2/3)

The next morning, Savannah woke to the sound of birds chirping, the sun shining in through the window over the bed. For a moment, she was disoriented. The blankets weren't hers, and the bed didn't feel right, but the night before came back to her when she turned to see Angel beside her, sleeping peacefully.

She laid still, not wanting to wake the man beside her. She expected to feel guilt, and she waited for it to come, but it didn't. Surprisingly, Savannah felt calm. She wasn't sure which was worse.

She slipped from the bed in slow motion to keep from making any noise, and headed out into the hallway in search of the bathroom. She found it just across the hall. In the mirror above the sink, the reflection of her messy hair and makeup-less face stared back at her. With just a hair tie on her wrist, she did what she could by pulling her hair into a tight bun on top of her head before turning on the faucet to wash her face.

By the time she made it back into the bedroom, Angel's eyes were open, trained hard on the ceiling, yawning. "Morning," he mumbled, voice deep and husky with sleep.

He turned to look at her, the corners of his lips turning ever so slightly upwards, but he hid it, running his hands over his face and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Hey," she said softly." She grabbed her phone off the bedside table and slipped it into her pocket. "I should get going."

"Mmm." Angel stretched his arms over his head and stood. "I'm feeling pancakes for breakfast. What about you?" He reached for his jeans and pulled them on.

"Julian should be back soon."

"Does Julian like pancakes?"

There was mischief in his honey colored eyes as he reached for a shirt and dragged it over his head. Savannah found herself staring at his tattooed torso, but she managed to pull herself together before he noticed. He looked even better in the daylight.

"It's seven in the morning. You really think he'll be home this early?" Angel didn't wait for a response. He headed out of the room, and a moment later, Savannah heard the clanging of pots on the stove.

Why didn't she feel guilty? Why wasn't she racing home to await the return of her husband, who thought she slept in their bed last night, being the faithful wife she always had been?

Something about Angel's house felt warm and inviting. Something about the way he'd woken and offered to cook her breakfast made her want to stay. She hadn't had many relationships before Julian, but she did know most guys wanted you gone as soon as the sun came up.

You didn't sleep with him, Savannah, she thought to herself, ungluing her feet from the floor and heading out into the hallway.

She found Angel staring at the back of a Bisquick box, his eyebrows furrowed as he read the instructions. "All you do is add water," she said, sliding onto one of the barstools across the counter from him. The comment earned a look from him that said, obviously.

"Yeah, but how much?"

"Here, give it to me." She hopped back up and came around the island, snatching the box out of his hand. "Get me your liquid measuring cup."

She found the correct measurements on the box while Angel busied himself with digging through cabinets. Savannah smirked. "You don't cook much, do you?"

"I'm one person." Angel shrugged and passed her the measuring cup.

"One person still has to eat."

Savannah poured the water and mixed the pancake batter, leaving Angel to turn on the stove.