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Rector
I got up early with the intention of making a big, sprawling breakfast for Brook and the guys but got to the kitchen too late. Deacon and Bishop were already there, busily cooking up a storm.
“Did the smell of fresh brewed coffee finally get you up?” Bishop said.
“Or is it the sweet fragrance of French toast?” Deacon said.
“Or the sizzling bacon?”
“All of the above,” came the feminine voice from behind me.
I turned to see Brook, her golden mane tousled, her lips full and red from an abondance of passionate kisses and her long, luscious legs on full display as she wore nothing but a baby blue T-shirt.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Bishop said. Spatula in hand, he busied himself with a batch of pancakes.
“Starving,” I said.
He pointed his spatula to Brook. “I was talking to her, dear brother. I know you. You’re always hungry.”
I looked sheepishly at Brook who grinned.
“I’m famished, Bishop,” Brook said. “And everything here smells wonderful. I don’t know where to begin.”
“I suggest you start with a freshly ground and perfectly brewed cup of coffee,” Deacon said as he poured Brook a cup. “And with a generous drop of cream.”
He handed Brook the cup.
“Oh,” she said. “This smells like heaven.”
“Then you can sit your lovely little ass down in the dining room and we’ll bring all of this to the table,” Deacon added.
“What about me?” I said.
Deacon pointed to the counter. “Grab that plate of French toast and those jars of jam.”
“Don’t forget the maple syrup,” Bishop said as he loaded a plate with pancakes.
Our hands full, we headed out to the dining room and set it all in the center of the table.
“You guys sure do set up a nice table when you put your mind to it,” Brook said. She brought two strips of bacon to her plate and three small pancakes, then picked up a piece of French toast and started tearing off pieces and popping them in her mouth.
“After everything we’ve been through lately,” Bishop said, “we thought it’d be nice to treat ourselves to a good meal... all together.”
