“Who are you talking to?”
“Rollie. West’s dog.”
“He has a dog?” she asked dreamily. “And his name is Rollie?”
I was grinning like an idiot as I resumed my place at the island, Rollie not too far away just in case I dropped something he’d quickly need to hoover off the floor. “Yeah. It’s short for Rollie Pollie, because he was a fat little puppy. How cute is that?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m seriously considering murdering your ass and cutting off your face so I can wear it and pretend to be you. The jealousy is that extreme, babe.”
“That’s not creepy at all,” I said as I started lining strips of bacon out on the pan.
“Like you wouldn’t be thinking the same thing had the roles been reversed.” She had me there. “And what’s going on? Why are you talking all quiet?”
I turned the knob on the burner to get the flame going. “West is still asleep. I’m trying not to wake him.”
“What the hell are you doing on the phone with me when you should be snuggled up in bed with that beefcake?” she asked indignantly.
“I wanted to make him breakfast. Kind of as a thank-you for all the orgasms, but also because he’s been cooking for me the past few days. I figured it was my turn.”
“Stella, no,” my sister snapped, all the humor gone from her voice. “Just stop whatever you’re doing and get out of the kitchen, okay?”
I rolled my eyes and turned my back on the stove as the bacon sizzled away so I could start on the eggs. “I’m more than capable of cooking eggs and bacon,” I huffed as I cracked the first egg into the mixing bowl. I might have gotten a little shell in there, but it wasn’t enough that he’d notice.
“I’m serious, Stell Bell. Step away from the stove.”
My family thought it was funny to frequently text me that gif from Schitt’s Creek of Moira Rose telling David Rose to fold in the cheese, but I wasn’t that bad. I could handle something basic.
“I’ve got this.” I had four eggs—and just a little more shell—cracked into the bowl, added the salt and pepper, then started to whisk. “You guys just never gave me a chance to improve.”
“There’s no improving on your level of bad, baby sis. Trust me. Please, for your safety, as well as the safety of everyone else in that house, just abandon ship now, before it’s too late.”
“You’re being ridic—” I cut myself off when something acrid began to sting my nostrils. Still clutching the whisk in my hand, I whipped around, flinging egg goop everywhere. “Uh, Sere?”
“Yeah?”
“Remind me . . . is water a yes or a no on a grease fire?”
West
I came awake slowly, a strange smell tugging at my consciousness and shedding the haze of sleep. I stretched my arm across the bed in search of Stella, ready for round two—or was it three—when I was jolted wide awake by the sudden shrill blast of a smoke detector.
Shooting out of bed, I gave myself a second to throw a frantic gaze around the room for Stella, but she was nowhere to be found. Snatching my discarded sweats from the floor where I’d shed them the night before, I quickly pulled them on and bolted out of the room, running down the hall at full speed, only to screech to a halt by what I saw in the kitchen.
Stella was batting at the flames shooting up from my frying pan with a half-singed dish towel while shouting into the phone at her ear, “I’m trying to smother it, you asshole, but I don’t even know what that means!”
“What the hell is going on?”
At my question, she whipped around from the stove, a guilty look on her beautiful face as she clutched the towel to her chest. “Uh, Serenity, I have to go. No. No! Stop laughing. God, you’re such a jerk. I hate you.” With that, she disconnected the call and tossed her phone onto the island. Then she resumed swatting at the small fire. “Nothing to see here, I have it totally under control.”
She was about to burn my kitchen down, and I couldn’t stop the smile from pulling at my face.
Moving into the kitchen, I yanked open a cabinet door and grabbed a lid that fit the frying pan. At the stove, I twisted off the burner and clapped the lid on the pan, effectively killing the flames.
“That’s how you smother a fire, grift.”
“Huh. So it is.”
I turned to look at her. She was disheveled and harried from her near miss, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her look more beautiful. “What were you doing, baby?”
She pulled that plump bottom lip between her teeth and bit down as she rang the dishtowel between her hands. “I was trying to make you breakfast.”
Fuck me, she was incredible. Unable to stand not touching her for another second, I reached out and snagged her around the waist, pulling her into me so I could kiss her. “First off, good morning.”
“It had been,” she grumbled. “Until I nearly burned your house down.”
“Nothing that won’t clean up with a little elbow grease,” I said in an effort to make her feel better, then I remembered something she told me on one of her first days here. “I thought you said you weren’t a good cook.”
“I’m not,” she said sheepishly, the skin unmarred by bruises tinting pink. “But I naively thought I couldn’t handle something basic. My sister is never going to let me live this down.”
“That’s who you were on the phone with?”
“Yes,” she groused. “She was trying to explain how to put out the fire, but she couldn’t stop laughing long enough to get the words out.”
I let her go on a chuckle, moving to the pan to see what she’d been attempting to make, when I stepped in something slimy. I looked down at the yellow-ish snot-like substance before returning my eyes to hers and arching a brow in question.
“Eggs,” she said with a wince. “Sorry. I’ll clean that up.”
She started to crouch, the dish towel she’d been strangling moments ago poised to wipe up the mess, but I stopped her by taking hold of her elbow and lifting her back to standing. “Go take a load off. I’ll handle this, then I’ll make us something to eat.”
Her face pinched up in an adorable pout, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing when she stomped her foot on the floor indignantly.
“I wanted to cook for you because you’re always doing it for me. I wanted to do something nice; return the favor. If you make us breakfast, it’s just more of the same. I’m never going to be able to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me.”
I cupped her cheeks in her hands. Now that I’d had her in the most intimate way, I couldn’t seem to get enough. There was no way I could be in the same room as her and not touch her. Hell, I wanted to throw her down on the island and fuck her with my tongue until she was screaming my name. But that would have to wait.
“This isn’t a competition to see who can out-nice the other,” I insisted. “I cook for you because I like to cook, and I like taking care of you. That’s it. I’m not keeping score, there’s no running tally.”
She melted into me a little deeper, pressing her less-injured cheek against my palm, but her expression didn’t lighten.