Page 84 of The Stalker Snafu

“Whatever you’re making smells amazing,” I said, not wanting to start the morning off asking questions. I dragged a stool from the island over to Adrian, climbed on it, and planted my elbows on the counter to get a better view.

“That’d be the ham and bacon.” Adrian waved his spatula at the pan of sizzling ham before scrambling up some eggs. My eyes roamed over a huge pile of plated bacon. Was he cooking for an entire football team? “You hungry?”

“I could eat,” I answered noncommittally as I willed my stomach not to growl like the beast it was. But coffee was at the forefront of my mind, so I slid off the stool and started brewing a pot of Noah’s—or Julian’s?—blonde roast.

“Ever had a Spanish breakfast before?” Adrian asked, looking over.

His eyes lingered, and I pulled on the hem of my sleep shorts, just now realizing how short they were. “I’m not sure. What makes it Spanish?”

He grinned. “It’s cooked by a Spaniard.”

I rolled my eyes. “Very funny. You’re Spanish?”

Adrian nudged the bacon around, then flung a towel over his shoulder like I’d seen my favorite baking babushka do on more than one occasion. “I should hope so. I was born in Spain.”

I hadn’t expected that. I didn’t catch an accent when he spoke English. “You were?”

He nodded, taking his eyes off the food and watching me instead. “A little town in Catalonia.”

I turned away from the brewing pot, taking in his olive skin tone and darker features. “What made you come here?”

“My old man’s job when we were little. Mom grew up in Catalonia, but Dad was from the States.”

Realization hit as I thought back to our first meeting at the quad. “Holy macaroni. You were speaking Spanish when you stalked me?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and refocusing on the stove. “Yeah. And sorry about that. Again. I didn’t expect you to sneak up on me.”

I frowned. “Do you normally switch languages when you’re startled?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not usually, no. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to talk to you or if I was just acting as guardian angel, so I played dumb.”

I fiddled with a cabinet handle. Maybe he could help me with my questions surrounding my disappearing boyfriend. “You really have no idea why Noah asked you to stalk me?”

“Watch you. Not stalk,” he corrected. “And no. He’s not big on sharing details.”

That sounded more like the Noah I knew.

“Is that normal for you guys, though? Watching people?” I asked, trying not to sound suspicious. It certainly wasn’t normal to me, but I hadn’t exactly gotten out much before college. It seemed like something out of a spy movie. “It’s more than a little creepy.”

Adrian flipped a slice of ham over before answering. “It’s not something we typically do.”

“… But not never?”

He pointed the spatula at me with a smile. “You know I’m not going to answer that.”

I huffed a breath, changing tactics. “Fine. But it would’ve been really cool if I understood Spanish. I could’ve called you out on it.”

His grin widened. “I don’t know. I was pretty amused by the French. What did you say, again? That you love your dog?”

I winced, not wanting to talk about that. Was he seriously fluent in French, too? Overachiever. “Are there any languages you don’t speak?”

“I only know four. Spanish, Catalan, French, and English.”

Only four. Fluent in four languages. No big deal.

Leaning back against the counter, I considered him. He didn’t seem all that intimidating cooking breakfast in a cozy kitchen. “What did you say in Spanish?”

Adrian turned back to the stove, hiding the grin clear as day in his voice. “That’s a secret.”