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I laugh, holding my gut from how hard the sound shoots from my mouth. “Then, don’t cook. Why didn’t you just wake me up?”
“I’m not going to wake you up to cook me breakfast. What kind of asshole do you take me for?” Still, he struggles to keep from laughing like I am. “Plus, you’re really cute when you’re sleeping.”
That’s so close to the same reason I didn’t wake him when I got up first. I just stared and cuddled up against him.
“I’m not cute,” I dispute, my face flushing like a tomato from the compliment. “This is a rat’s nest, for the record.” I point at the huge knotted ponytail on my head, but he just shakes his head like I’m the idiot here. If anything, he’s an idiot. Hell, I didn’t burn the frying pan or screw up the coffee. “Just get out of the kitchen. I will rectify this situation.” I snatch the scouring pad out of his hand and he smirks at me before walking out of the kitchen.
He has a really nice smile.
I set the pan to soak and get on making a proper cup of coffee, seeping style. Grabbing two coffee cups, I rubber band a coffee filter over each cup and dispense the coffee grounds for a single serving before boiling a kettle of water, in case I want more than one cup of coffee.
Once the kettle hisses, I carefully seep the boiling water through the filter, making sure both cups are level. I dose out the milk and sugar before tossing out the filters and mixing the contents of the mugs.
I take a long sip from my mug and hum in satisfaction. This is how coffee should taste.
After a moment of bliss, and warm coffee goodness, I grab the other mug and walk into the living room where Xander is reading over some manual with a picture of a TV on it. I have no clue why he bought it, but I don’t want to disturb him, so I set the mug on the make-shift coffee table in front of him. He looks at the mug curiously before wordlessly going back to the task at hand.
Wow. No thank you or anything.
He grabs the mug and takes a sip as I turn and start back toward the kitchen, knowing full-well that I have a pan to scrub and don’t want to distract him any further.
“What did you do to my coffee?” he asks.
A smile tugs at my lips. Even he can taste the difference.
Without turning around, I reply, “I made it right.” Then, I disappear back into the kitchen.
* * *
It takesa lot of time and elbow grease to get the frying pan back to its former glory. It’s something I’m proud of. For a while there, I was worried it was too far gone to save.
Once it’s clean, I use it to make a fresh batch of scrambled eggs and take a plate to Xander who is still going through that damn manual. You’d think he’s never had a TV before with how engrossed he is.
Just like every other time I’ve made him food, he stares at the plate for a minute before muttering a quick line of gratitude. It’s almost like he’s stumped by me doing this.
It’s something I’ve done since I learned to cook when I was twelve. I take care of people. I’m a natural caregiver. It only became more intense after Ivan’s accident. I was the main person who took care of him, which included feeding, bathing, and dealing with his incontinence issues.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, but I don’t go to answer it. Xander warned me never to answer the door, especially if I’m alone. All he’s said about it is anyone worth answering the door for will text him before coming over, but I’m sure there’s some other reason behind his reluctance, like the police.
I head to the kitchen and grab my plate of eggs before stopping in the entryway to the kitchen. There’s no kitchen table, so Xander and I have just been eating on the couch. If someone else is here, there won’t be room for me. I guess I’m eating in bed today.
I step out as Xander opens the door and invites Rafael inside. He seems nice and respectful, even given all the tattoos, even on his face. He’s young, maybe a year or two younger than me.
“Morning, Raf,” I greet him.
He sends me a small wave. “Morning, Laura. How’s your day so far?”
“Can’t complain.” I shrug before going to the bedroom. It nags at me that I didn’t offer to make something for Rafael, but I really don’t want to intrude on whatever this meeting is about.
No one from the club comes here except Rafael and he usually brings some type of news to Xander, almost like he’s an informant just for Xander.
“Late start to the morning?” I hear Rafael ask as I sit on the bed with my coffee and eggs.
“Fuck you, man. It’s my day off.”
“No judgments at all,” Rafael laughs. “Trust me. If I had a pretty lady like Laura occupying my bed every night, I would never rise before noon.”
My eyes widen at his words. Does Rafael think Xander and I are…having sex? Sure, we share the same bed, but Xander has been nothing but a gentleman in that respect. He hasn’t even mentioned it since the moment we shared in the kitchen weeks ago.
