Page 5 of Gideon
“What would you like for breakfast?” I asked as we entered the kitchen. I looked around the tiny main floor of the house. The place was in shambles, more of a shack than a house. While it wasn’t exactly dirty, it wasn’t tidy whatsoever.
“Why don’t you let me cook for you this morning?” he offered. That was strange. Men didn’t do the cooking. That wasn’t how things worked here.
“I’m certain I can fix you a nice breakfast,” I reassured him. Perhaps he thought I wasn’t a good cook. It wouldn’t have surprised me if my father had warned him. I wasn’t the greatest cook, that was for sure, but I could throw some eggs and toast together with the best of them. Breakfast wasn’t that difficult.
“Let me cook for you,” he pushed back.
Deep breaths, Naomi.
“I will cook breakfast,” I asserted. I needed to make sure I did my part. At least for now.
“Naomi, please,” he tried again. But that tone. “I’ll cook breakfast.” He went to the fridge, pulling out eggs and some bacon, setting up to cook. He was so condescending. I tried to cool my temper, but it wasn’t easy.
“Fine, but I will cook lunch and dinner,” I retorted, trying my hardest not to sound petulant, but the man wasn’t making it easy. He might be easy on the eyes, but he was arrogant. Just like the rest of the men in Zion.
“How long have you lived here?” I asked, looking around at the piles of random things that cluttered the living area of the home. There were a few boxes scattered, all opened, but nothing really put away.
“I’ve been here for going on three years now,” he answered, much to my surprise.
“Three years?” I questioned, unable to disguise the shock in my voice.
“Yeah, uh. I need to finish unpacking and finding homes for everything, I guess,” he laughed off.
“You could say that,” I scoffed, grimacing as soon as the words were out of my mouth. He flipped his head around to look at me, surprise written on his face.
“Judgey little thing, aren’t you?” he chuckled, turning back to the stove where the bacon sizzled away. The smell filled the small home and I couldn’t help the way my stomach grumbled in response. I was starving.
I needed to keep my cool. I had a feeling it was going to be difficult with him, though.
“How do you like your eggs?” he asked, plating the bacon and reaching for the carton of eggs.
“Sunny side up, if that’s alright,” I replied, keeping my tone even and light.
“Perfect. Same as me,” he said, throwing me a smirk over his shoulder. The eggs cooked up quickly, and he plated our food, bringing the plates to the small table that sat in against a wall. He shuffled the papers and items on it until there was room for us to set the plates down. The place was a mess.
“Have a seat,” he offered, pulling out my chair. I smiled at him in thanks and sat down. He immediately dug in to his food, not noticing until he was three bites in that I hadn’t touched my food yet. “Everything okay?” he asked, quirking one eyebrow up in question.
“Do you have any ketchup?” I asked hesitantly.
“Ketchup? Why do you need ketchup?” he asked, confused.
“Nevermind,” I sighed.
“No, I have ketchup. I’m just wondering why you need it,” he pushed back. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
“I said nevermind,” I reiterated, gritting my teeth, but still keeping that fake smile painted on my face.
“And I asked why you needed it,” he pushed right back. He was a stubborn ass.
“Forget it,” I seethed. My patience was waning with him.
Deep breath, Naomi. Don’t lose your temper.
“Whatever,” he scoffed, his fork clattering against the plate as he dropped it and pushed back from his seat. He stalked over to the fridge and retrieved the ketchup in question and brought it to the table, setting it down a touch too forcefully. So he had a temper as well. That was something else good to know.
I took the ketchup, squirting it over my eggs with a grin. I looked up at him, noting the grimace on his face before taking a bite of my eggs, the yolk and ketchup making an orangy mess on my plate.
“That’s disgusting,” he mumbled in distaste.
