Page 17 of Daddy, Take Me Away
Chloe nodded.
“Pour us both some coffee and set the table please. There’s cream in the pot in the fridge. Sugar’s in the cupboard.” Taking command of the plates, he dished up the meal and brought it to the small round table. Having set the coffee and silverware at each of the two chairs, positioned directly across from one another, she returned to the kitchen for the cream and sugar. When she returned, however, Hamish had moved the chairs closer, practically side-by-side. He’d seated himself in the same seat where last night he’d spanked her, and was now leaned over her plate, cutting her sausage patties into bite-sized pieces. He’d already cut her fried tomatoes and her toast into four triangles. “Salt, pepper?”
Tingling everywhere, she slid into the chair beside him. “I haven’t tasted it yet.”
“Fair point.” Picking up her fork, he placed it over the baked beans on her plate and pushed it toward her. “Eat up. I want you in the tub in ten.”
Bossy bones. Telling her when to take a bath.
Tickled, Chloe picked up her fork, licked it clean and speared a mushroom. She loved mushrooms, tomatoes not so much, and as far as she was concerned, beans were something to eat only when there was nothing edible left in the world. Still, she didn’t complain. It wasn’t every day someone made her breakfast, so she nibbled her toast and worked on eating the good stuff, while poking the nasty stuff to one side of her plate.
“Allergic?” he finally asked, watching as she pushed all the tomato pieces to the very edge of falling onto the table.
“No. I just–” she shuddered, “–don’t like the taste.” The thought of a piece in her mouth made her tastebuds curdle.
He grunted. “Two bites, then. It’s good for you.”
“Tomatoes used to be called poisonous fruit for a reason.”
Chuckling, he sat back in his seat, wiping his mouth and beard on a napkin. “No one calls tomatoes a poisonous fruit.”
“They used to.”
“Yeah? Who?”
“Medieval people,” she said defensively. “Medieval people called it that all the time.”
“We’ve had centuries of right thinking to turn that around. Come now, two bites won’t kill you.”
She glared at her plate, muttering under her breath, “Wanna bet?”
She didn’t mutter anywhere near quiet enough. Either that, or she wasn’t at all successful about keeping her mutinous frown hidden.
“Do we need to discuss it?”
A slow flush burned through her tightening tummy. The warning in his tone could not be ignored, and if forced to be honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. At least he wasn’t making her eat the beans.
Screwing up her face, she speared two bites of tomato, stuffed it into her mouth and then tried to swallow both without chewing. The juice hit her tongue anyway and her throat immediately closed. Fighting not to gag, she covered her mouth with her hand.
“Chew your food. Choke yourself and I’ll nae be happy.”
God. She obeyed, her hand waving rapidly in front of her lips, as if that might help her chew faster. The second her mouth was empty, she gulped down half her coffee in an effort to kill the lingering taste.
Defiant in her success, she showed him her empty mouth and only just kept from sticking her tongue out at him at the end. She was not a brat; she’d also never been forced to eat tomatoes before.
“Done.” She ate the next piece of sausage, hoping to soothe her abused tastebuds. Sausage was by far her favorite breakfast meat. It was right up there with eggs and toast.
Taking a big bite of beans, he gestured to her plate. “Allergic to baked beans?”
Her minute defiance melted right out of her.
“Noooo,” Chloe wailed, covering her mouth with both hands.
He was merciless and smiling. “Five bites,” he told her.
But… beans!
“Do I have to?” she whimpered. “Please, I promise I’ll eat anything else, just not the beans. Pleeease?” She clapped her hands together in pleading prayer.
