Page 69 of Star Claimed Omega
She found ingredients in his cupboards and refrigerator.
In a bowl, she combined flour, yeast, warm milk, caster sugar, salt, and butter.
Next, she turned the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and kneaded until smooth and elastic. She then set it aside in a covered bowl on the counter.
She peeled, chopped, and tossed a salad with crisp greens, shaved fennel, sun-cured tomatoes, and a splash of oil and vinegar.
She used up a chunk of replicator beef to create a fragrant pie.
Reaching for the dough, she shaped and popped a tray of rolls into the oven.
Soon, the house filled with the smell of fresh bread and baked deliciousness.
Soleil lit the taper candles in Santi’s dining alcove.
The deep indigo wax lent a rich and welcoming ambiance to the space.
She found cloth napkins, folded them with crisp corners, and placed them on either side of the table, along with two glasses, just in case.
She stepped back and surveyed the scene. Her heart gave a quiet, nervous beat.
It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was her way of expressing gratitude to Santi for rescuing her and for offering a bed in his home.
Also, for the freakin’ safety, tranquility, and sanctuary she never would take for granted.
SANTIAGO
Santi pushed through his front door, the heft of his day still coiled around his shoulders like a vice.
As his boots thudded against the polished floor, a mouthwatering aroma washed over him, of fragrant spices, baked bread, and herbs.
He froze, his eyes fell on the table, on the flickering candlelight, and a pair of wine glasses caught in its glow.
He arched a brow at the setting: plates, napkins, a bottle of white wine chilling in a bucket.
His gaze shifted to the barefoot woman standing by the dining room, wearing a midnight-blue sheath dress that hugged her curves, with her hair down in soft waves.
She was placing a bread roll into a basket when she glanced up and their gazes locked.
The smile on her face sent a lurch through him.
‘Fokk,’ he muttered under his breath, a mix of awe and relief.
Soleil’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry. I just thought -.’
He cut her off with a raised hand, eyes still fixed on her like she was his only light in a long tunnel of darkness.
‘Cariño,’ he rasped, his timbre rough and raw. ‘You misunderstand me. I meant this is the best thing I’ve ever walked into today. Excuse the reaction. I’ve had a shit day.’
She paused mid-inhale, then nodded, a flush creeping up her neck.
He stepped further inside, but his legs gave a soft wobble beneath him, and he staggered before catching himself on the edge of the table.
The candles flickered from the shift in the air.
Eyes widening, Soleil’s gaze dropped to the blood on his collar.
She breath hitched at the dark red smudged along his arm, the ragged sleeve of his Signet XO uniform scorched from weapons fire.
