"What?" I say when I see her lips curl into a slight smile.
"Nothing," she says smoothly. "It's just not everyday that I have a half-naked man eating breakfast in my kitchen." She smiles and I wonder how far to take this banter.
"Really?" I ask facetiously. "I bet you could have any number of half-naked men in your kitchen, any morning you want," I say, not initially realizing what I'm implying.
"Well..." she laughs, "that remains to be seen, but I'm glad you're here today."
"Me too," I answer. What do I say now? Should I push this a little farther? What's the worse that can happen, she tells my mom that I came onto her? Hell, Mom doesn't care.
"So now that you've fed me, what do you generally do with half-naked men in your kitchen?" I ask, leaning my elbows on the table and looking d
