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I started snickering when he stripped the thing over his head, then he glanced down at his T-shirt before turning to face me. It read, “Four wheels move the body. Two move the soul.” I guess that was appropriate enough for my innocent eyes, not that I had any sort of innocence left.
The thin material pulled tightly across his chest with his muscles rippling below. Damn, he was built. Tattoos spiraled down his muscular arms. His sun-kissed skin had a glistening shine.
Besides yesterday, I hadn’t stood freely in the sun for years, but I craved it.
The problem was... I couldn’t help but admire this man’s body. My thoughts swirled. I shouldn’t want to touch a man or have him touch me, but inexplicably, I did.
“Did you ah”—he combed his fingers through his hair, making the silver threads dance in the morning light—“sleep well?” he asked.
I tilted my head to one side and studied the small lines around his eyes as well as the way the dark pools shifted around the small kitchen. Did I make him uncomfortable?
Cook lifted a mug of coffee to his lips as he leaned against the counter, his brows raised. “I was going to come wake you in a few minutes.”
Waking up without him there saddened me, but this prospect piqued my curiosity. How would he have woken me, I wanted to know? Would he have brushed his fingers down my arm or placed my hair behind my ear? It would have been nice to wake to his heat and weight surrounding me.
“I can go back to bed, so you can, if you want?” I offered, stepping back toward the door.
He cracked a smile. “No point. Come in. I made breakfast for you.”
“For me?” I asked, walking toward the dinner table. In my memory, besides Vivi and now Cook, no one had prepared a meal especially for me.
“Yeah. You need to eat,” said Cook.
His back faced me, and he had another pan on the stove, seemingly making eggs.
“I know Mom made you food last night, but you didn’t eat.” He turned around and slid an egg onto my plate from the frying pan. “That was okay last night, but you need to eat this morning.”
My stomach flipped. Maybe I was hungry when I smelled breakfast in my bedroom, but it had all disappeared when I saw Cook. I drank him in, wanting... what?
“I’m,” I started, but couldn’t think of a good answer. Not hungry for food. What was I supposed to say to him?
“You’re going to eat,” he growled. “You’re too skinny. Probably malnourished. You need food. You chose me to take care of you, so you’re going to do what I say in this matter. Can’t have you wasting away on my watch.”
Toast popped up from the toaster in the corner. Cook, with his long arms and lean body, reached for them. He walked the plate of toast with butter and jam to the table and put them down in front of me. I marveled at his thick muscles and then dragged my gaze up his broad shoulders and to his chiseled face.
I reached up to touch his beard, but he slipped away, sitting behind his own plate across the table.
“Eat,” ordered Cook. “The bacon will be done in a few minutes. I wanted to make you something that wouldn’t be too hard on your stomach. Is bacon okay? If not, just eat the eggs and toast.”
He ripped off a hunk of the toast and chewed, one brow raised and waiting for me to eat. When I finally took a bite of the egg, he grinned. “We’ll work you up to richer foods. When we do, your taste buds won’t know what hit them.”
When he brought his coffee to his mouth, I licked my lips and then said, “I’d love to taste anything you want to feed me.”
Cook choked and coughed until his eyes watered, but he didn’t respond.
“Where’s Vivi?” I shoved the corner of the toast in my mouth.
“Still asleep,” he answered. “She cleaned long into the night andneeds her rest.”
“She did a lot yesterday.”
“I can’t help her cleaning and cooking obsession.”
I grabbed the butter and slathered it across the remaining toast. Signora didn’t supply butter with the stale bread she threw at us, and we still pounced on the morsels like hungry dogs. After the butter melted, I placed a thick layer of strawberry jam on top. The toast began to sag, so I quickly shoved it into my mouth, humming with delight over the simple pleasure.
I’d forgotten what fresh bread tasted like, and the sweet jam and salty butter only made the experience more heavenly.
“Say, what did Signora feed you while—” Cook blinked at me several times while I gulped down the last bite.
