Page 104 of ICED
He laughs, still breathless. “Deal.”
And we lie there, hearts racing, basking in the mess we made. Before too long, we’re both snoozing.
I wake up to the sound of a small hand patting Owen’s cheek.
“Bear. Bear. You snore like a lawnmower.”
I blink blearily, half-buried under duvet and Owen. Lila’s standing by the bed in her dinosaur pyjamas, holding her stuffed rabbit like it’s a clipboard.
Owen cracks open an eye and grins. “I was told I sound like a tractor, actually.”
Lila narrows her eyes. “You said you’d make breakfast.”
“Better than that,” Owen croaks, easing himself up. “How do you feel about bear-shaped pancakes?”
She gasps like I’ve offered her a pony. “Can they have chocolate chip eyes?”
“Obviously.”
Lila and Owen head into the kitchen while I turn over and pretend to be asleep. I lay there listening to their conversation.
“Right,” Owen says, “You’re sous-chef. What’s the first rule of pancake making?”
Lila responds all business like. “Don’t lick the spoon unless no one’s looking?”
“Correct.”
By the time I stumble into the kitchen, they’ve got a plate stacked with bears and a floor dusted in flour.
I stop in the doorway, hair wild, Owen’s hoodie hanging off one shoulder, smiling like I’ve walked into a dream.
“What’s going on here?” I ask.
“Breakfast bears,” Lila says proudly. “I’m the soupy-chef. Bear’s the chef-chef.”
I head over and kiss Owen’s cheek. “Smells amazing.”
“Tastes even better,” he says, handing me a plate. “Guaranteed to make you fall in love with me all over again.”
My brow lifts. “All over again? Bold of you to assume it stopped.”
That earns me a kiss on the nose.
After we clean up, meaning I mop flour off the cabinets and Lila “helps” by smearing it around with a dish towel, Lilalooks up at Owen, chocolate smudged on her cheek.
“What do we donow?”
Owen nudges her nose with his. “How would you feel about making protein bars for the team?”
“Like what the big muscle men eat?”
“Exactly.”
“Do they like chocolate?”
“They likeanythingwhen it’s made by a sous-chef with strawberry aprons and dinosaur pyjamas.”
That seals it. She claps her hands. “Let’s bake!”
