AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The kitchen island is set up for a romantic breakfast, with gardenias in a vase.
“Is Archer around?”
“Mr. Crone is in the workout room.” There is a workout room? “He said not to wait for him, miss.”
I slide onto the stool at the kitchen island, set the shirt on the chair next to me, and let Alma serve me.
Dang, it feels good to be waited on.
“Do you cook for Archer”—I clear my throat—“Mr. Crone all the time?”
“Not lately, no.” Alma’s smile is permanent on her friendly face. She loads my plate with food and sets it in front of me. “I used to cook breakfast and dinners for him every day,” she explains as she takes a carafe of some green juice from the fridge and pours me a glass. “He used to eat the same thing. Healthy diet, you know.”
She pushes a plate of croissants and a selection of spreads closer to me. Then a bowl of fruit. There is more food than an army can eat.
“This is a healthy diet?” I ask her with a grin, taking a croissant and closing my eyes as it melts in my mouth.
Alma laughs, folding her arms over her big bust. “No. He requested this for you. This is the first time Mr. Crone requested me in a month.”
She smiles, watching me eat as I shove food in my mouth.
“Why?”
She shrugs. “I’m glad he’s back.”
Yeah, from a month-long binge.
I devour the food on my plate. Must be nice to have someone cook for you all the time. Alma starts moving things around the stove, talking aboutMr. Croneand how she is excited to cook for him again.
“Next time, miss, I can cook anything you want. If you have any instructions—”
“I’m not—” I say with my mouthful but stop.
I want to tell her this is just a one-off morning and I don’t reside here. But she might think I was a one-night girl, and I don’t want to ruin her impression or whoever she assumes I am.
Archer’s voice in the living room makes me tense up and put down the fork that has shoved most of the plate’s content in my mouth within minutes.
In a moment, he walks in.
Holy shit.
He is in sports shorts, barefoot, bare-chested, his body shiny with sweat, hair a damp mess, and a towel over his shoulder.
I hold back a whimper—why was he not in my bed last night?
He says something into the phone, then cuts the call and smiles at Alma.
She beams. “Mr. Crone, breakfast?”
“No, just a glass of juice. Thank you, Alma.”
She starts fussing like he’s just honored her with the most important task, and I wonder if he’s only polite like this with staff.
His eyes shift to my plate as he walks up to me. “Enjoying breakfast?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I have a hard time keeping his gaze because I want to study his body. A hard time not getting disappointed when he gulps that delicious green juice and says, “I have to jump in the shower and get to work. You should visit Doc to check your vitals and stay home today.”
