Page 164 of Kentrell

“That you do.”

I picked up the fork, dug in, and closed my eyes with the first bite.Perfection.

“Mmm.”

Then I paused, watching him move around the kitchen—easy, confident, natural.

“How do you always know so much about me?” I asked, chewing slowly as I watched him from across the kitchen island.

Kentrell didn’t answer right away.

Just smirked to himself like he’d been waiting on that question.

He reached for the orange juice, poured me a glass, and slid it across the counter without looking up.

“I got people,” he said casually.

I blinked. “People?”

“Yup.”

“What people?”

He grinned, finally looking me in the eyes. “Top-secret operation. Full surveillance. Breakfast preferences. Sleep patterns. That spot on your thigh that makes you gasp…”

“Kentrell,” I groaned, shaking my head as I tried not to laugh with my mouth full. “Be serious.”

“Iamserious. You think I just know that you like your pancakes with vanilla bean and a little crisp on the edges by accident?”

“You guessed.”

He arched a brow. “Did I?”

I squinted at him, biting down another smile. “You’re being difficult.”

He winked. “And yet… here you are.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart was thudding a little too loud in my chest. Because behind that smirk, beneath all that swagger, I knew therewasintention. A lot of it.

And hehadbeen paying attention.

Even when I wasn’t sure he cared.

Even when I was too busy pretending I didn’t either.

I smiled to myself as I kept eating, but I could feel it.

The shift in the air.

The way his silence stretched just a little longer than usual.

When I looked up again, he wasn’t smirking anymore.

He was watching me. Elbows braced on the island. Fingers steepled together like he was working through something in his head.

The same way he looked when he was making decisions.

Serious ones.

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