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I pursed my lips, trying to think of a way to answer the question.
“Let’s call it an official apology breakfast.”
“Is that right?” Pyke asked, pouring himself a big mug of coffee. “You’re apologizing?”
“I am. You four have been nothing but nice to me so far, and I’ve been nothing but a spoiled brat. So, if it’s OK with all of you, I’d like to start over and make it up to you guys. Go ahead and have a seat—I’ll bring your plates over when you’re ready.”
The guys shared a look, heading over to the table to sit with Kid. They began talking with one another in quiet tones, no doubt about me. That was fine—I knew I was making a major about-face when it came to my behavior, so it made plenty of sense that they’d want to discuss this new development. When the plates were ready, I walked over to the table and began passing them out.
“Is Ajax on duty?” I asked.
“He is,” Kid said. “I’ll take a plate out to him.”
I made up one more, handing it to Kid as he hurried out of the kitchen. While he was gone, I took the time to top off everyone’s coffees, and Kid returned just as I finished doing that and putting all of the condiments on the table.
“He happy with it?” I asked.
“More than happy,” Kid said. “Though when I told him who made it, I had to convince him that it was safe to eat.”
The guys laughed as Ivan sat back down.
“Dig in, all of you,” I said. “Before it gets cold.”
The boys went to it, shoveling down their French toast like it was the last portion of it on Earth. It took them no time at all to clean their plates. Once I was seated, I loaded my plate with a couple of slices and began eating.
“Wow,” I said, washing down a bite with a sip of milk. “I know it’s bad form to…what is you Yanks say? Toot your own horn?”
The guys laughed at my words.
“That’s right,” Kid said.
“Well, I don’t want to toot my own horn, but this is quite good.”
“Sure as hell is,” Pyke agreed. “Hell, if I had the day off, I’d eat a few more slices and be perfectly happy spending the rest of the morning in a food coma.”
I smiled. “Pleased to hear it.”
“Thank you, Victoria,” Hud said. “Much appreciated—both the food and the reasons behind it.”
“You’re welcome.” I should’ve stopped there, but I couldn’t help myself. “It’s…I’ve been angry and taking it out on you all, so I figured I’d apologize. It’s not your fault that my father treats me like a doll rather than a person with thoughts or feelings.”
Right when the words were done tumbling out of my mouth, I realized I’d said too much.
“You guys…don’t need to worry about any of that though. It’s my own personal business. Sorry to dump it all out.”
“No worries, Princess,” Hud said. There was something about the way he said “princess” in that Scottish accent of his that really did something for me. “But I have to ask—where the hell did you learn to cook like this? No offense, but princesses are the ones who usually have people doing the cooking forthem, right?”
I smiled. It was both a nice compliment and a way for him to turn the conversation away from my overshare.
“From my handmaiden Anna. Well, she’s more than that, she’s one of my only friends. Back when I was a girl and after my mother passed, she helped me take my mind off of things by bringing me down into the kitchen, sneaking me down, really, and teaching me how to cook.”
Ivan nodded. “Well, wherever you learned it, I wouldn’t complain if you cooked for us again. If you’re ever feeling up to it, that is.”
I smiled, pleased that my little peace offering was going over so well.
“Yeah. Maybe I will.”
We continued the rest of the meal in silence. When the men were done, each of them having devoured a heroic amount of French toast, fruit salad, and coffee, they sat back with their hands on their bellies.
