Page 34 of Almost Perfect
“You’re always welcome. We usually eat about now. If you prefer earlier or later, that’s no problem. Also if you have, uh, dietary restrictions, I’m sure I can accommodate those.”
I didn’t need to look behind me to know she followed closely. I felt her presence like I’d feel a bonfire I’d turned my back to.
“We should talk about payment. I want to—”
“Please, you can talk to Warrick about that. I’m just the cook.”
I flashed her a grin to ease the tension because I’d whipped around and interrupted her. Bad manners and unlike me, but I didn’t want her thinking of me as hired help. The very thought ofthatbecoming the dynamic between us chafed. As far as I was concerned, she was a guest here for another three weeks, and I’d feed her as often as she liked. She and War could work out the associated charges.
She’d pay Warrick, not me.
“Oh, sure. That’s fine.”
I rounded the kitchen island and tossed the diced veggies into the waiting heating pan. “You eat eggs? I’m doing omelets this morning, but if you don’t, I can figure something else out.”
“Eggs are great, thanks.” She slid into the chair Warrick normally used at the bar.
I busied myself with the sizzling peppers and onions in front of me, nudging them gently and wondering if I’d used too much oil. I didn’t bother about that stuff for family, but she might need me to pay more attention.
“I feel like I can hear you thinking from here.”
I turned to find her eyes on my back. They quickly jumped to meet mine. “Can you? What am I thinking?”
“I’m not totally sure, but something far too intense for this early in the morning.”
She settled into her seat and leaned on the countertop. This gesture tipped me off to what I hadn’t noticed before.
“Not a morning person?”
“I’m a night owl stuck in a morning person’s body.”
The look on her face was truly distraught. I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out. “Sounds awful.”
“Trust me, it is. It’s a little better on tours because you end up out late, and I’m so physically exhausted that I can sleep in. But any other time, I naturally wake up around six despite my every hope of going longer.” She swiped a finger over one eyebrow.
I turned back to the pan and dumped in the eggs, willing myself to stop staring at her. Because that’s what I kept doing. She had no makeup on, and the fact that she’d shown up here like that made something in my gut twist.
Maybe she went without makeup all the time, but I doubted people outside of her inner circle ever saw her like this. Beautiful face naked of anything but her natural features. Hair coiled in a bun at the top of her head. I hadn’t gotten a good look at her clothes, but they were some kind of sweats or comfortable loungey clothes.
She’d look this way first thing. Her hair would spill all around her, but this would be her when her eyes fluttered open after a night together.
Well, that one got away from me fast. Time to change the mental tune. “Does coffee help? We just have drip, but it’s fresh and decent.”
“Yes, please.” She hopped up from her seat. “I can help myself, if you don’t mind?”
I nodded, feeling the pull to survey her clothes like I had her face and refusing to give in. She hadn’t come here to be inspected or gawked at. I certainly didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, because the thought of having her here for breakfasts for the next few weeks had created a kind of anticipation for the coming days that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Far too long.
If I stopped to interrogate that thought, I might have to acknowledge that I’d felt far more anticipation foreverythingsince Calla had arrived. Even when I suspected she was truly bad news and not just bad for me specifically, I looked forward to seeing her. Curiosity. Attraction. Any number of other draws to see her, be near her.
But that, I would not dwell in. What good would it do to see that pattern, to confirm this energy pulsing through me, was anything significant? I would stay. She would leave. Breakfast was all we’d have until then.
I dumped the omelet onto a large wooden cutting board and sliced wedges of it for each of us. I preferred smaller, individual omelets and that was usually how I made them, but with three people eating and War’s arrival being a bit variable, I didn’t want anyone waiting on me to get theirs made.
“You’re welcome to sit wherever you like,” I said, holding out a plate for her.
She took it with a small smile and followed me to the table where we’d sat for dinner. Had that only been a few nights ago?
“This looks amazing. I’m not sure why that surprises me after the other night, because that food was all delicious too, but seriously. You’re a great cook.” She raised her fork and dove in.
