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“Aren’t you going to get up?” she asked, annoyed.
“In a minute. Just enjoying the view.”
She threw my shorts at me and growled. I grabbed them mid-air and pulled them on.
“I’ll go downstairs and get started.”
“I’ll be down in a minute. Just need to take a quick shower.”
Pointing a finger at me, she said, “You’ve got one minute, Colton.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I padded over to her and pulled her in for a kiss.
After she left, I waited another minute before opening the door again. Listening for any movement, hoping not to bump into Morgan, when I walked out into the hallway. Silence.
I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water. Pressing both palms against the wall, I watched the rivulets fall from my skin. As I stood there, naked and alone, I realized for the first time that I didn’t want to wash someone off of me. I didn’t want to say goodbye and not see her again. Miami felt like a dream, but this was real.
By the time I entered the kitchen, everyone was already downstairs. Frances had pulled her hair up into a messy bun and threw a beige sweater on top of her t-shirt and shorts. She stood in front of the stove pouring batter into the pan.
“Do you know how to scramble eggs?” she asked when I placed my hand on her waist.
“Every bachelor does.” I winked at her and grabbed a bowl next to the stove. She rolled her eyes at me, but a smile tugged at her lips. I loved making her smile.
We worked side by side at the stove while the Morgans set the table and poured the orange juice. My brothers and I shared dinners, but Luke did all the cooking. I never complained, but there was something to be said about whipping up a meal with someone. It brought two people together in ways that one person preparing alone couldn’t do.
I saw when she hesitated about adding cinnamon to the pancakes and I whispered, “go for it.” I loved the chuckle she gave me when she knew I’d read the indecision on her face. Or when she lowered the heat on my pan when I was busy grabbing the milk. I’d never thought domesticity would make me want a woman more. I thought it’d make me run. No, the lies had done that.
We all sat down at the kitchen table, and Marie kicked off the meal with her bon appètit. I scooped some eggs onto my plate, then passed them along to Robert.
“Crawford, I must say, I trust a man who can cook. Shows me he’s patient,” said Robert.
Patience wasn’t my strong suit and I didn’t want Robert to think I’d wait patiently for his signature. “If you can trust me enough to eat what I’ve cooked for you, you can trust me in business. Right, Morgan?” I brought a forkful of eggs to my mouth and waited for his response.
“Mmm,” was all he said.
“The pancakes are delicious, Frances. Oh, I bet my homemade jam would be perfect on these. Would you like to try it?” Marie asked, already rising from her seat.
“Of course I would.” Frances barely got the words out before Marie grabbed a jar of strawberry jam from inside one of the cabinets. There were at least twenty more stacked in there.
After trying the spread, Frances gave an approving hum. “You should consider selling these, Mrs. Morgan,” she said.
“You really think so?”
Frances nodded, “Absolutely, I do. There are some farmer’s markets I can suggest to you in town. My brother and grandmother go every weekend.”
“Thank you, dear,” said Marie, beaming at her. “You certainly knew what you were doing when you hired this one,” said Marie, looking straight at me.
I glanced at Frances and she nearly choked on her pancakes, but I smiled. “I don’t know if I knew exactly who I was hiring… but I think I’m finally starting to appreciate her.” Frances’s smile lit up the room, despite her trying to hide it with the back of her hand. I smiled openly at her.
Feeling like I could conquer the world after last night and this morning, I tried my luck with Robert. “If you have some time after breakfast, why don’t we discuss a few things in your study, Morgan?” I asked.
He puckered his lips, and his white mustache twitched. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t I take you and Frances to see the escarpment? There’s a wonderful looking-point we can walk to from here?”
The last thing I wanted was to go on another outing with Robert and his son. But if that’s how Morgan wanted to play this out, so be it. “Sounds good,” I said, and sipped my orange juice to hide my annoyance.
Frances placed her hand on my thigh, and the gesture calmed me down. Wrapping my hand over hers, I squeezed, hoping she understood my gratitude. Losing my cool with Morgan would not win me any points with him.
After breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan left to collect supplies for our day trip, and Frances excused herself to go upstairs. Watching her quit the room, I noticed Paul doing the same.
