Page 38 of Playing for Keeps (Checkmate 4)

And she’s back to tossing me under the bus. “Whatever. You made a tutu for your pig, and I think that’s… cute.”

“Shut the hell up. Do you want breakfast or not?”

“Yeah.” Sighing, I drop my head and make a move toward the counter. “I got it.”

“No, I got it.” She steps away from the notebook and coffee on the counter and swings the pantry door open. I never used to own sugary cereal, I was more of an omelet and protein shake kinda guy, but somehow in my absence, magically, I have about seven different brightly colored boxes in my pantry, all of which sport a cartoon character on the front, and a hidden nutritional chart on the side.

“You want the captain? Or you want the flakes? Or do you want an Andi special?”

“What’s an Andi special?”

“Andi special it is!” She bear hugs three boxes and backs out of the pantry. Dumping them on the island counter on top of her scribbles in a spiral bound notebook, she swings around to grab a bowl from the cabinets, then shimmies to the silverware drawer to grab a spoon as I stop at the counter and study the stool I’m supposed to climb onto.

Glancing around, I look at the dining table; much lower chairs, much easier to sit in. The table is for formal events, romantic dinners, seducing Andi with candlelight before taking her to bed and passing out with her scent in my nose. The counter is where we eat breakfast and talk about our plans for the day.

But I’m not sure I can climb up, and even if I can, I’m not sure having my leg dangling like that would be comfortable.

Eyeing me, Andi pauses with the first box pulled open, then dropping it, she bolts out of the room and sets my teeth on edge when the squeak of my wheelchair transfers from carpet to floorboard.

She races it along my hall, and curses when she takes the corner too soon and chips the corner wall.

“Crap, sorry. I’ll fix that. Now sit.” She stops with it a foot behind me and sets the brakes. Walking away without another word, she goes back to the counter and pours cereal into the bowl. One cereal. Then another type on top. Then the third on top of that. Glancing up, she scowls and forces a deep V to dent her forehead. “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to poison you.” She goes back to the pantry and pulls out a bag I recognize. “You get the sugar from those guys. Add a little muesli and whole milk, and you have a rounded meal that’ll keep you revving for hours.” She pours the milk and pushes the bowl forward an inch. Glancing up, she grins. “The Andi Special.”

“The Andi Special is just sugar.”

“Plus muesli for the staying power, and milk for your bones. They took about twenty with your leg and foot, but you still have a hundred and eighty or so to drink calcium for, so stop bitching and sit the hell down. Sit at the table, and I’ll come eat with you.”

“You’re gonna eat, too?” I back up and prepare myself to lower into the chair. If I use the crutches, my arms hurt. But when I use the chair, my ass hurts from sitting so much.Awesome. Lowering, I grunt when my bad leg bumps against the steel frame and sends flames through my thigh and into my stomach, only to be made worse when I brace my abs, which sets off a new round of pain radiating from the bruise that spans from my stomach right around to my back.

I’m a fucking mess, and each move I make makes me aware of a new hurt.

Andi doesn’t speak until I’m sitting. She doesn’t move a muscle until my toes uncurl and my chest slows from the exertion. And when she realizes she’s staring, her head snaps up and she spins to get another bowl. “Yup! I’m gonna eat. I’m starving, but I was waiting for you to get up. I was hoping you’d join me for breakfast.”

“Are you eating the bowl of sugar, too?”

“Of course.” She bustles around and uses the bottoms of my sweatpants as slippers. “How could I tell you to eat it if I wouldn’t? That would be rude.”

“Probably the same way you made laced brownies for me and didn’t eat any.”

Snorting, she pours her milk until the overloaded cereal spills over the lip of the bowl. “That was so much fun. I can’t believe you gave pot brownies to the chief.”

“I didn’tgivethem to him!” Turning the chair while she’s busy tossing the milk into the fridge, I move to the table and grind my teeth when I find a space already opened up. I don’t have to move a chair to make room; she already did it. “You snuck the pot in.” I wheel in until I can almost pretend I’m just a normal guy sitting at a table. In a second, she’ll be sitting too, then we can eat and pretend. This could almost be a ‘morning after’ breakfast, though she’s a lot more awake and cheerful than she was last time.

“I took it to work thinking it was a regular protein brownie, Andi, and my boss stole from me. Every asshole around me is a liar or a thief.”

She stops behind me, reaching over my shoulder to place the bowl down, and breathes on my cheek as she snickers. “It must be tough knowing such awesome people. Not everyone gets to get stoned with the hard-assed chief of police. He’s usually too cranky for those kinds of shenanigans.”

“I didn’t get stonedwithhim.”

“Right, because he stole your stash. Such a shame.” Tsk’ing, she slides her fingertips along the back of my neck and walks away to get her bowl. “I think we should bake tonight. We can lace them if you want, or keep them normal. Either way, I reckon some chocolate goodness is exactly what we need right now.”

“Yeah?” I look over my shoulder with an angry scowl. “Will it help grow my leg back?”

Without missing a beat, she drops into the chair across from mine and digs her spoon in. “You just never know, babe. Stranger things have happened. Eat up, you need your strength.”

“Sugar isn’t strength, Andrea. Sugar is a waste of my fucking time.”

Mocking, she pinches her lips and bobs her head. “Andrea. Andrea. Andrea.Somebody’s a cranky baby today, huh? Take a man’s leg one time and you never hear the end of it.”

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