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He’s staring intently into my eyes, and I can’t help but stare back at those gorgeous golden-brown ones. Being so close, I can see that there are more and more flecks of gold that make his eyes seem brighter. They remind me of stars, more specifically, the stars that he was telling me about back home.Home?Yes, home. That perfect house I shared with the people I love. Once we get Katia back, I will make that house mine. Or ours.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Conrad asks. He must have seen the thoughts just racing through my mind.
“I was thinking about the constellations you told me about. I swear I can almost make them out in your eyes.”
He leans forward and presses one of those Conrad-soft-and-perfect kisses against my lips. His lips are velvety, but he knows when to apply the right amount of pressure. He pulls away, and his eyes roam my face.Now, I would give a penny for his thoughts.
His eyes stop, and he’s just staring into mine again. “I love you.”
Did he just tell me he loves me?There is no way that he can’t feel my heart pounding against his chest or the fact that I’ve stopped breathing.
My mouth drops open.Say something, dummy. You know what you want to say.Silence is hanging between us for far too long, and I can see the glimmer in Conrad’s eyes fade slightly.
I bring my hands up to cup his face. Leaning forward, I press my lips to his for a few moments, kissing him lightly.
“Conrad,” I say softly as my voice catches. “I love you too.”
His eyes beam again. He pulls me in tighter, if that were possible, and doesn’t release me. We lay there pressed together in a firm embrace, and we must have been at ease there because, at some point, we fell asleep.
Bacon. That is the smell of bacon.
I open my eyes slightly, and there is a perfect view of Conrad’s chest. We haven’t moved an inch. My stomach rumbles loudly at the smell of the bacon wafting down the hall. He must hear it because, at that moment, his eyes blink open. As soon as I come into focus, his face lights up with a smile.
“Someone is cooking something good,” he says.
“As much as I could lay here all day in this position with you, my stomach is telling me to get in there and devour whatever it is that’s creating that smell,” I say back.
He groans but releases me from his grip as he stretches his arms above his head with a louder groan. I’m sure his arms are stiff from holding me all night. After a long stretch, he sits up, and I lie there admiring what was lurking beneath the covers. This man’s body is like a statue, and he needs to stop hiding it under so many layers of clothing.
I move to a sitting position next to him and curl around one of his shoulders, planting a kiss on top of his shoulder. “You need to show off this heavenly body more often, Conrad,” I say, placing another kiss on his shoulder.
He only laughs and moves to a standing position. He spins around to face me, sitting alone on the bed. I frown up at him, but he extends his hand to me. I take it and stand up. Conrad then moves to the discarded clothes and grabs my bra, shirt, and pants, tossing them over to me.
“Let’s get to the kitchen and get some food in that extra loud stomach of yours,” he teases with a smile.
We enter the kitchen hand in hand, and it looks like an entire feast is being prepared, but the only other person in the kitchen is Marcela. She is dancing between the island and the stove while cutting veggies on a cutting board. Marcela has her AirPods in so she doesn’t hear us enter, but whatever she is listening to is upbeat from the look of the hip movements that she has going on.
Marcela does a spin with a large knife in one hand and a green pepper in the other. When she is mid-spin, she spots us and freezes. Setting down the knife and pepper, she reaches up and pulls out her AirPods.
“I’m making breakfast,” is all Marcela says.Yeah, we got that part figured out, girl.
“It smells incredible,” I tell her, which is not a lie. “Do you need any help?”
The awkward silence returns between us. The tension is thick enough to slice through like butter with that giant knife now lying on the counter. Conrad can sense it too.
“I need to go check the computers to see if anything popped up,” he says, turning around and leaving the kitchen.Coward.
“So about that help?” I say.
Marcela picks up the knife, and all my instincts tell me to get ready to duck and take cover. “You can chop these peppers and those two onions over there.” She sets the knife back down-phew-and turns back towards the stove, where the delectable smells are emanating from.
I round the island and grab the knife. Now, I don’t necessarily want to brag about my knife skills, but I will. They are amazing, and I make quick work of the peppers and onions. I stand there for a moment to admire the uniform shapes and sizes of each piece.
“Damn, that was quick,” Marcela comments. She stands next to me, also admiring the piles of peppers and onions. “I’m just putting the finishing touches on these potatoes if you want to heat the tortillas.”
“What are we putting together exactly? This is a ton of food.” She has a skillet of bacon, chorizo, a giant skillet of potatoes, and another of eggs. She dumps the onions and peppers into the skillet with the potatoes. Whoever built this home knew what they were doing with the size of this range.
“These are Mama Jerez’s famous, giant breakfast burritos,” her whole face lights up when she says it. “We had little growing up, but my mom always went over the top on her breakfast burritos. She would stuff them as full as she could and tell us to eat all of them because we wouldn’t be eating again until dinner. Hell, sometimes I was still full by then.”
