Page 170 of King of Pain
I pad barefoot into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and start hunting through cabinets for coffee mugs and pods. It doesn’t take long. The place is nearly barren. I get the first cup of coffee brewing and grab two ceramic bowls from the lower cabinet.
I fill one bowl with water, then open the bag of dog food I ordered, fill the other and set both bowls on the floor near the island.
I set a small mixing bowl on the counter and pull eggs and bacon from the fridge, followed by strawberries, flour, sugar, vanilla, and butter. I beat the eggs for a scramble, set the bowl aside, then get a pan going for the bacon. While that sizzles, I get to work on the crepe batter. Strawberries get sliced and tossed into a bowl.
I’ve missed doing this for him.
It’s my love language.
The door opens and Chance steps inside, hair damp with sweat and eyes sparkling as he takes in the sight of me whirling around his kitchen. Guinness trots past him to his water bowl, panting happily.
“Smells good,” Chance says, breathless. “Good thing I decided to run him.”
He walks up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and presses a kiss to my neck. “You’re going to make me fat.”
I laugh and lean back into him. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Spend the day with me?” he murmurs into my ear. “We can take Little G to the park and window shop.”
I nod without hesitation. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
“Good.” He kisses my jaw, then steals a strawberry from the bowl.
“Hey!” I call out, but he’s already halfway down the hall, laughing as he disappears toward the bedroom.
I shake my head, smiling, and get back to breakfast. But he’s gone longer than I expect. By the time I’m pouring the scrambled eggs into a heavily buttered pan, I start to wonder what’s he’s doing.
Then he reappears, fully dressed in jeans and a fitted tee, hair damp from the shower, thick and wild—like the man himself.
“Oh,” I say, glancing at him as I turn the bacon. “I was hoping I could scrub you clean myself after breakfast.”
He laughs, but there’s something slightly off about it. His smile is hesitant, almost nervous. “Yeah, sorry, uh... just wanted to get it out of the way.”
It’s weird. Not a huge deal, but enough to notice. I study him for a beat but decide not to push it.
Instead, I grab another pod and throw it into the machine. A minute later, I slide his coffee across the counter.
The look he gives me.
Fuck.
It’s not about the coffee. It’s about getting this back. It’s about all the mornings that we missed.
“I’ve got the kitchen,” he says after we finish eating. He barely ate. I hope he’s feeling okay. “You shower and get ready,” he says, then grabs a pan from the stove.
I linger a minute, watching him rinse out the pan and hum some tune under his breath. I want to wrap my arms around him and drag him back to bed, but I settle for pressing my lips against the back of his neck and head for the bathroom.
When I come back out, I’m dressed in a pair of Chance’s jeans that sit a little loose on my hips and one of his worn, soft black t-shirts. When I step into the living room, Chance’s eyes track up from my bare feet to my face—and darken.
“I really do like you in my clothes,” he says, low and rough.
I laugh. “I don’t fill these jeans out like you, but they work.”
Chance tilts his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You ready?”
“Yep.” I slip on socks and shoes while Chance grabs the leash and clips it to Little G’s collar, scoops up his keys and we head down in the elevator.
The street outside is quiet. Most of the downtown non-retail businesses are closed for the weekend. We stroll toward Paw-Pup Park, Chance’s hand entwined with mine.
