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I shrug. “Then it’s okay. You don’t have to. Now come on, let’s go to the kitchen.”
She follows me begrudgingly. I hear her footsteps behind me as I lead her down the stairs.
“Do you own this place?” she asks.
I glance at her and she’s taking in the house. I can see some surprise in her expression. Probably at how extravagant the house is. It’s pretty expansive, tastefully decorated—it screams wealth.
“No. My father does,” I reply.
“Oh. That makes sense.”
“I take offense to that,” I say, smiling.
We arrive at the kitchen and I head for the pantry to grab the ingredients for our meal. She makes herself comfortable on one of the stools.
“I would cook you some pancakes, whip up a five-star breakfast. But I burn everything else I try to cook but toast, bacon and eggs.” I inform her, slightly sheepish. “I also can’t promise the eggs will be good.”
“Then I can cook,” she offers. “I’m pretty good at it.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, waving her off. “We’ll eat like peasants this morning. Maybe later you’ll be feeling well enough to cook us a nice lunch.”
She raises both eyebrows. “Bold of you to assume I’ll still be here by then.”
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll enjoy the pleasure of my company so much you won’t want to leave.”
“I doubt that.”
I get started on the meal.
“Exactly why were you so angry last night? When you bumped into me?” she questions after a couple of minutes pass.
“Well, when you bumped into me, I had just finished a phone call that pissed me off. You were collateral damage, darling,” I state, cracking some eggs into a plate. “And I seem to recall you saying some unnecessary mean stuff.”
She sniffs looking away at that, “I’m not going to apologize.”
That makes me grin, “Yeah, I didn’t think you would.”
She doesn’t say anything else after that, simply watching me as I prepare the only meal I’m good at.
It’s all ready in a matter of minutes, with a cup of coffee already brewed as well. I place it down in front of her, and she offers me a grateful look before starting to eat without any complaint, so I’m guessing it’s good enough. I take a seat to eat as well.
My legs bounce up and down on the elevated stool, and I can’t help but sneak a few glances at her as she eats.
What am I doing?
It’s an important question I have to ask myself. Not only have I invited a stranger into my home, I’m feeding her breakfast and inviting her to cook us lunch. Where is all this coming from?
Granted, she’s gorgeous as hell, but considering what happened last night, hooking up with her is the last thing I’m thinking about. The fact that she didn’t want me calling the police raises some serious red flags. She could be a fugitive, a murderer, anything.
And then I told her she didn’t have to tell me her name if she didn’t want to. I did that to make her comfortable, but now I’m battling against urge to ask her to tell me so I can look her up and ensure she’s not some kind of threat. Just one search and I’d have all the information I could need on her at my disposal.
But that would be an invasion of privacy. Xander likes to say that just because we’re good with hacking doesn’t mean we should use our skills to commit crimes. I always used to tell him that was bullshit.
“Could you stop thinking so loud?” she questions, looking up at me.
Those icy blue eyes meet mine and for only a moment everything else falls away. My mind actually stops. Then I blink and everything starts working again.
“What?”
