Page 5
“Are you scrambling them?” Bella asked.
“I am. Do you want some?”
“Yeah. Now that I’m smelling food, I’m really hungry.”
“I’ll make more,” he said. Her waffles popped, he grabbed the syrup and handed it to her and got to making his eggs while he refilled his coffee.
She was eyeing his cup.
He had nothing sweet in the house for her to lighten it up. He drank it hot, dark, and strong enough to grow hair on his chest.
Shit, it was no different from a soda in terms of caffeine and at least better for her.
He pulled another cup down, filled it halfway and put it in front of her.
“Really?”
“You won’t know if you like it until you try.”
She picked it up and peered into the cup as if she thought some monster was going to splash it up her nose.
Maybe this was a touch of humor he needed this morning.
He kept his eye on her while he cooked the eggs. Not staring, more like observing under his lashes.
She picked the mug up in both hands, took a tentative sip and wrinkled her nose, scrunched up her face and then stuck her tongue out as if she hoped something magical would wipe it clean.
“That’s gross. How do you drink it like that?”
“It’s an acquired taste.”
“Can I add milk to it?”
“You can try.” Milk was good in his mind. She normally drank it with her breakfast anyway.
She grabbed the milk, poured some in, stirred it, tasted it, made the same face again. Added more, same results. When it was half and half, she said, “This isn’t bad but now it’s not hot.”
“You might like it iced.”
As if that just popped into her head, she headed for the freezer, grabbed a couple of cubes and dropped them in, then took a drink. “This is better. So I can drink it like this?”
“If it’s just coffee and milk, sure. All those creams and sugar aren’t good for you, but this is better than soda.”
“Really?” she asked, her eyes a little wide and almost... emotional.
What. The. Hell. It was just coffee!
“Yeah,” he said.
“So I can stop and get one on the way to school?”
“No.” He dropped some eggs onto her plate, then sat to finish his. “But you can put some in a travel mug and it will stay cooler longer.”
She looked as if she was going to pout, but agreed that was better.
And when breakfast was cleaned up, she was slamming cabinets open and closed. “I don’t want to use my Stanley cup. I put water in that. Don’t you have one I can use?”
He moved to another cabinet, one higher up that she never went into, then pulled a smaller cup down. “Here you go. Go at it.”
