She nods. "Strong ass double shot of espresso coming right up," she sing-songs, using the fancy machine that auto grinds the beans. As it drips, she places a can of Lysol in my basket. "When you go up there, spray everything down, then take your linens off the bed and put them in the washer. We have some cleaning to do. I want the virus out of the cabin forever. We’ll know we’re in the clear in a couple of weeks if we’re both healthy and then should just live here for eternity."
“I could definitely get on board with that plan.” I’m dying to kiss her, but don’t. It’s too soon.
Bruno moseys into the kitchen, goes to his bowl, and barks three times. Cami looks at me with a proud smile. "I taught him to do that when he's hungry."
I nearly snort because he's been commanding me like that since he was a puppy, but it’s sweet that they’ve been bonding, so I don’t want to burst her bubble. "Nice. Maybe I should stay in my room, and you can teach him how not to get in people's personal space."
She pets his head, then grabs some food and pours it in his dish. "We made a deal. I think by the time we return to the real world, Bruno will have his act together."
"He's his own boss. But hey, you're cuter than me, so it's possible he’ll listen." I shoot her a wink, then go upstairs. I take a few puffs from my inhaler and set my clothes on top of the dresser. Though I feel weak, I pull off all the sheets and blankets, and put them in a big pile before spraying as much Lysol as I can handle in the room. Considering the smallest tasks exhaust me, I sit down for a short break.
Grabbing the linens, I carry them downstairs, stuff them in the wash, and start it before going to the kitchen and lathering my hands with soap. It’s weird how it’s become an obsessive part of my everyday life—wash, clean, sanitize. I didn’t think much about it before all of this happened, but now I can’t do it enough.
Cami stands at the stove, and I admire the booty shorts she’s wearing that show off her perfect ass cheeks. She's making scrambled eggs, something she recently learned how to do when I first got sick and even whipped up some pancake mix. After a second, she catches me staring and turns and grins. "Coffee’s ready."
I can’t stop staring as the early morning sun reflects through the window and casts a glow over her skin. Damn, she's just so gorgeous, and she’s going to be mine. A small smile plays on my lips as I walk toward her, and she hands me the mug. I thank her, then grab some creamer before taking a sip. "Whoa," I say, tasting the hint of chocolate. "This is different. What kind is it?"
"Some ridiculously expensive kind Daddy enjoys," she says. "You like it?"
I nearly down half of it in two gulps. "It's incredible."
“Apparently…" She lingers, then chuckles. “It comes from cat poop.”
“What?" I nearly choke, looking at her with wide eyes, hoping she’s joking. “Are you serious?”
She acts like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, Kopi Luwak. Some luxurious bean. I don’t know. Sounds odd, but glad you like it, though."
“Rich people are so fucking weird,” I murmur, and she laughs.
Cami places the eggs on two plates, covers them, then goes to a cabinet. “We have enough to last us through an apocalypse." Cami waves her hand down a shelf, and she's not lying. It’s full of golden coffee bags. I lean against the counter, admiring how sexy she is. “Great. Guess we’re drinking cat shit coffee for the rest of our quarantine.”
She turns around and notices my gawking, then laughs. "What? Do I have food in my teeth?"
"Nope, just thinking how fucking beautiful you are and how it was torture being away from you," I say, setting my mug down. Reaching for her, I pull her into my arms, tempted to close the gap between us. Our mouths are inches apart, and all I want to do is kiss her. I've missed her so damn much, but I also don't want to re-infect her. She should have some immunity built up, considering she survived it, but there are still a lot of unknowns about this particular virus. As I'm about to pull away, she stands on her tiptoes and moves in. Taking the lead, she parts her lips and presses them against mine. I should push her away, but now that I’m tasting her, I lose all my willpower. We exchange a searing-hot kiss, and we nearly melt into one another. I can't help but grab her ass as she moans into my mouth.
"Eli," she whispers.
"Mmm," I say, plucking her bottom lip between my teeth when she pulls away.
"Our eggs are getting cold," she says dreamily, then goes in for another.
“Not the words I want to hear right now." I groan, adjusting myself.
Her hands twist in my hair, and the only thing that stops us from going any further is the fire alarm blaring through the cabin.
Her eyes go wide. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
I notice the burner is on with a skillet on top, and it's smoking. Immediately, I turn it off and let out a hearty laugh.
"Right when I thought I was becoming a chef." She groans. "At least I took the eggs out before walking away."
"This is true," I reassure her with a wink, opening the windows and fanning a towel to try to clear the smoke. "Nice save."
Once the alarm is off, and our ears are safe, Cami grabs another pan and pours the pancake mix inside. “I thought I’d try my hand at pancakes since the video I watched on TikTok made it look easy.”
"You shouldn't make them so big. They might not cook all the way through and will be difficult to flip," I explain because I learned the hard way when I was thirteen. It always seems like a good idea, but it's not.
She turns and throws me a smart-ass look. "I've got this."
“Pretty confident for someone who nearly caught the cabin on fire,” I tease.
She wrinkles her nose and snarls.
I lean against the counter and watch her. Because she’s so stubborn and wants to prove her point, she grabs the handle with both hands and proceeds to flip it as though she’s a celebrity chef. Only she puts too much strength into it and the cake flies in the air, then falls dough side down on the floor with a splat. Seconds later, Bruno rushes into the kitchen and gobbles it up, not caring how hot it is.
Cami frowns, then shrugs. "Good boy." She leans down and pets his head. "He's a champ at cleaning messes."
I nearly fall down laughing. "I wonder how many messes he's eaten in the past two weeks."
"It's our little secret." She looks at him. "Right, Bruno?"
He stares up at her, his little tail wiggling as he begs for more. "Bruno," I warn, and he turns and trots away once he realizes he’s not getting it. I try not to feed him too many table scraps because it’s not healthy for him.
"Let me help," I tell Cami, and she reluctantly moves over. I scoop the batter, then pour it into three perfect circles. They're palm size and don't take too long to cook before I flip them over.
She playfully scoffs. “Okay, now you’re showing off."
"Pancakes were one of my favorite things to make when I was old enough to stay home alone. I remember cooking so many one time that I was nearly sick from eating them. I had a stomachache for days."