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“You don’t have to cook for me. You should be resting.”
Delaney waves her hand in the air dismissively as she flips the partially cooked pancake. “I’m fine,” she says.
I get the feeling she’s always fine, even when her world is falling apart. “You almost drowned yesterday,” I remind her, my voice harsher than I meant.
Her shoulders stiffen, then drop. I want to punch myself in the face. “But I didn’t,” she finally responds, shaking off whatever dark thought was passing through her mind. “And I have you to thank for that.” Her voice is chipper again like she’s used to bouncing back whenever life knocks her down. “So go sit at the table while I serve up!”
I’m about to protest, but then she levels a look at me, one eyebrow arching up, challenging me to defy her again. Fuck me, that look has my dick springing to life, and I reluctantly take a seat before she can see the effect she has on me.
A few minutes later, Delaney sets a plate stacked with pancakes down in front of me. She grabs a plate for herself, then brings over butter, applesauce, and two glasses of water. “I couldn’t find syrup, but I firmly believe butter can make up for almost any missing ingredient.”
I nod at her sage wisdom, and she gives me another smile.
We dig into our food, and I can’t help the strangled moan that rumbles out of me at the first bite. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve had pancakes and nothing as fluffy and delicious as these.
“Good?” Delaney asks.
I nod eagerly while shoveling another bite into my mouth. She stares at my lips, her cheeks turning the cutest shade of pink before she looks away.
“You like cooking?” I ask, making a concentrated effort not to inhale my breakfast like the brute I am.
“I…” Delaney tilts her head to the side, staring off into space. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it. No one has ever asked me what I like,” she says more to herself than to me.
I want to ask a million different questions, but I bite my tongue, waiting for her to volunteer more information.
“I’ve always cooked, I guess. But I do enjoy it. Creating something from random ingredients, finding a good recipe, and then tweaking it to make it even better…” She trails off, lost in her thoughts. “Anyway, um… how about you?”
She’s suddenly laser-focused on her food, cutting it up into smaller and smaller pieces. Her dark hair shifts forward as she dips her head, covering her face like a curtain. Damn, she’s got her secrets, alright. I’ll figure them out. I hope. I’m not the best conversationalist.
“It’s been a while since I’ve cooked anything worthwhile. It’s mostly fish, rice, and beans for me. Though I used to be able to whip up a mean lasagna. Fried chicken, too. My sister used to love my chicken cordon bleu.”
I wince at the mention of my family. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to remember. How did the little siren pull that information out of me without even trying?
“Sister? Does she live around here?”
“No,” I snap. Delaney jumps at my tone, and I growl at myself for scaring her, which of course doesn’t help the situation. “Sorry,” I say more softly. “I… It’s a long story.”
Delaney catches my eyes, her light and goodness shining through. “I get it,” she whispers, giving me a small smile. Christ, she’s too good. Too pure.
We finish breakfast in silence, though it’s not uncomfortable. Delaney stands and starts to clear the table, but I grab our plates before she can.
“Shower’s in there,” I say, pointing down the short hallway. “You can clean up and rest some more. I need to check on a few things outside and prepare for the next storm.”
“Storm?”
I nod in confirmation. “Might be a few days until I can get you back home. No one is going to want to sail or fly out here until things have settled down.”
“Home?” she squeaks.
I turn to look at her, noting how she curls in on herself. Once again, I find myself drawn to her, and I wrap my hand around hers, squeezing lightly. “Or wherever you want to go.” I desperately want to know what put that fear in her eyes, and why she doesn’t want to go home. Now isn’t the time, though. “But for the next few days, we can be roommates.” I nearly choke on the word.Roommates?More like soulmates.
Crazy bastard, my inner voice shouts.
Delaney breathes out, relaxing at my words. She doesn’t have to go anywhere ever again. In fact, I think I’d be happy if I tucked her into my side and kept her next to me forever.
First, I need to figure out what she’s running from. Then I’ll make her mine.
CHAPTER FIVE
