-MIA-
Sunday morning. My brain was still foggy when I wandered into the kitchen.
Asher was at the stove. Cooking.
Wearing shorts. Shirtless.
I had to be dreaming.
"Good morning," he said, all chirpy sunshine. "Omelet?"
Definitely dreaming.
"You cook?" I asked, watching him turn from the stove and slide a flawless omelet onto a plate in front of me.
"Not much, really. But I was starving after swimming so many laps." He poured more ingredients into the pan, starting another omelet.
I took a stool and sat. The smell of melted cheese and grilled vegetables was divine.
"You swim?"
"I used to. Competed a bit until college. But if you want to go pro, you need full commitment. Business school pulled me out of the pool." He plated another perfect omelet, tossed the pan into the sink, and
