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finished the bacon, then put the eggs in the pan. In a couple of minutes, they were scrambled perfectly. He split them onto two plates and slid one in her direction. Not paying attention to her, he pulled up a chair at the breakfast bar and started eating.
    It didn’t take her long to push her laptop to the side, grab the fork he’d laid on the plate, and dive into the food.
    Never underestimate the power of the smell of bacon. She ate at least half of what he’d put on her plate, which he’d call a success.
    When she finished, she pushed the plate to the side. “That was really good. Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    “You’re a good cook, Trevor.”
    He leaned back in his chair. “This surprises you?”
    “I don’t know why it should. You’re good at so many things.”
    He shot her a grin. “Darlin’, you don’t know the half of it.”
    She rolled her eyes and slid off the bar stool. “I’ll do the dishes.”
    “You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest.” He got up and took her plate, and his, to the sink, rinsed them, and loaded them in the dishwasher. Then he washed the skillet.
    “You’re just on your best behavior because I’m here, right?” she asked as she once again took her seat at the breakfast bar.
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “First you cook, then you do dishes, too?”
    He stacked the skillet on the dish rack, then grabbed the towel to dry his hands. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
    “This isn’t the Trevor I know.”
    “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
    She studied him. “Maybe I don’t.”
    “Good. Then you’ll have a lot of questions to ask for your super feature story on me, won’t you?”
    She laughed. “I guess I will. Which, now that breakfast is over, we should get started on.”
    “Sure. Let’s spread out a little. The breakfast bar isn’t comfortable. Where would you like to go?”
    Haven looked around, trying to decide where to set up. “Uh, living room.” Trevor would likely be more at ease, more at home there, and more amenable to answering her initial questions. Plus it seemed a little more formal than the sunroom.
    “That’ll work.”
    He took a seat in one of the leather chairs, while Haven spread out on the sofa, her notes and laptop in front of her.
    “So how’s this going to work?” he asked.
    “I’m going to start by asking some background questions, just a few things we’ll fill in on the narrative side of the equation. After we’re through with all the background story, we’ll start filming.”
    “Which will consist of?”
    “You at work. And at home. Where you grew up, where you went to high school and college, plus some of you at leisure activities. People want to know about you—who Trevor Shay the person is, as well as the athlete. I’ve looked into some of the charities you sponsor. I’d like to showcase those.”
    “I’d like that, too.”
    “Then we’re set.”
    “Do I get to interview you, too?” he asked.
    “Ha-ha. And no. You already know all there is to know about me.”
    “Do I?”
    “Sure. We’ve known each other since college.”
    “We’ve been around each other, Haven. But do we know each other all that well?”
    She frowned. “I don’t understand the question.”
    “Look. If you knew everything there was to know about me, you could write the background without needing to interview me, right? But you can’t, because while we went to college together, we didn’t really hang out, did we?”
    “No, we definitely didn’t.”
    “And it’s not like we’ve spent a lot of time around each other. We know each other because of your mom and dad. We’ve hung out some, but you don’t really know me all that well. And I don’t know you, either.”
    “Do you know everyone who interviews you?”
    “No. But you’re the daughter of someone I greatly admired. Someone I thought of as a mentor. You’re not just a random interviewer. You’re someone I’d like to get