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I follow the instructions on the coffee maker and get to work making breakfast.
Bacon comes first with the eggs going into the scalding pan straight after. I marvel at how clean and nice everything is. Like it’s never been used before.
Without knowing how Brock takes his eggs, I make them over easy. And I have to say, once the food is plated, it’s picture-perfect.
I set the table, put out two mugs for coffee, and decide it’s time to face the man I’m supposed to be making a baby with.
Opening the door, I see him shirtless, swinging an axe at a log he intends to split. Admittedly, he’s gorgeous, with thick cords of muscles highlighted by beads of sweat that travel the hills and recesses of his body.
If I had to guess, I’d say he was in his early thirties. An age many don’t make it to in today’s world.
But some things are best not thought about.
I clear my throat and cup my hands around my mouth, as I used to do for my siblings, and yell, “Breakfast is ready.”
Chapter6
BROCK
Ilook over at the porch and see Lyra standing in a lilac sundress, waiting for me to join her.
It seems ridiculous that we should act like nothing happened last night, but with everything that’s at stake, it might be best to avoid hard conversations.
I throw down the axe and wipe the sweat from my brow. I sure could use a meal, but I don’t much want her company.
Not that I have a choice.
I follow her back into the cabin, trying not to dwell on how nervous she is. Her hands tremble as she places the salt and pepper on the table, and she nearly drops a pitcher of water.
This is all new to her. Things will get better.
Still, the way she avoids my gaze makes me feel like I’ve committed a crime against her.
I remind myself how scared she must be, but nothing makes this feel right.
“I-I hope you like your eggs over easy. I figured if you didn’t, I could cook some more.”
“Over easy is perfect,” I say as I take my seat.
I cannot overstate the awkwardness of being at a table with someone who’s utterly terrified of you and knows they must have sex with you. It makes me feel less than human.
Lyra’s fork jitters across the plate whenever it connects, but I can’t think of a single damn thing to say that would soothe her.
The food is delicious. Better than anything I’ve had in years, including the dish I made last night.
Her eyes shift ever so slightly up, but her attempt at boldness only makes her look more scared.
I recall the Boyfriend Bootcamp they put me through and how important it is to make a woman feel safe and secure. But how the fuck am I supposed to do that?
A day ago, I was imagining what it would feel like to get my dick sucked again. Now, I’m wondering if Venus would assign me another mate.
“There’s a roast that I reckon will taste awfully good tonight in the refrigerator,” she says. “If you’re in the mood. Or we could have ribs.”
Despite my frustration, I engage in meaningless chatter. “I’m pretty sure anything you cook up is going to taste fantastic.”
“With as much meat as we have, we won’t have to slaughter the livestock for a stretch,” she says.
“That’s good because that is a chore I am not looking forward to.”
