Page 38 of Auctioned to the Devil

“You’ll get bored.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

His gaze catches mine.

The air changes.

Then he turns back to breakfast.

Coward.

I glance toward the mudroom and notice my boots sitting beside the woodstove.

Dry.

Clean.

“You dried my boots too?”

“They were soaked.”

“Caleb.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to do all this.”

He sets a plate in front of me.

Eggs. Bacon. Toast.

“Eat.”

I stare at him.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Every word.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

“Then stop taking care of me.”

“No.”

I drop my fork. “You’re infuriating.”

“You’re hungry.”

“That has nothing to do with this.”

“You’re meaner when you’re hungry.”

“I’m not mean.”

He looks at me.