The Breakfast Invitation

In the morning, as she stepped out into the kitchen, Seb was at the coffee machine. “Not you too,” he shook his head in stern disapproval as he pushed a pod into the opening and waited for the machine to work.

Owen met her eyes across the kitchen bench and raised his eyebrows. “Seb has a strong opinion about morning exercise,” he explained. He was dressed for a run but had apparently paused to have a flick through the daily newspaper on his way as it was open on the bench in front of him.

“I have a strong opinion about all exercise,” Seb corrected, turning and resting his hips against the kitchen bench, cupping his coffee in both hands and blowing on it to cool it. “Other than the horizontal sort.”

“If you do it in the morning,” she explained, stooping to adjust a shoe. “It is over and done with for the day.”

“It depends entirely on what you mean by ‘it’,” Seb winked lasciviously. “I have no objections to certain physical activities in the morning, afternoon, or evening.”

“You we