“Uh …” A growling sound came from her stomach. “Er, sorry. I kind of … didn’t have time to eat lunch.”
She didn’t need to explain why she hadn’t eaten yet as he could have guessed it was because of his ransom note and threat. Guilt poured through him, and his inner lion swiped its claws at him for letting her starve. “I’ll take care of that,” he said leading her to the kitchen. “Are you famished? I have some chips or fruit you can munch on.”
“I’m fine, I can wait,” she said as he motioned for her to sit on one of the stools on the center island. “Are you going to order some food?”
He opened the fridge and took out some cheese and apples, as well as a carton of eggs. “No, I can whip you something.”
Her eyes went wide with surprise. “You cook?”
“Hey, I’m not that much of a bachelor,” he said jokingly. “I can cook.”
“Oh, no,” she shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s just that … no one’s ever cooked for me before.”
“Really? But you’re a baker.” He pushed the fruit and cheese at her. “Not even when you were a kid? Like your mom or dad.”
A sad look flittered across her face. “Um, not exactly. Unless you count sandwiches and pouring cereal into a bowl.” She took the apple and bit into it.
He could tell she didn’t want to talk further about it, so he let it be. For now. “I’m not a Michelin-star chef or anything, but I’ve been told I make a mean scrambled eggs. Sit tight.”
Gathering the ingredients, he cracked some eggs into a bowl and added some milk and a pinch of salt, then whisked them all together. “Do you want some tea or coffee?” he asked as he turned the stove on to a low heat and added a pat of butter into a pan.
“That would be nice.” She put the apple down. “Where’s your coffee maker.”
“No, no.” He waved his hand. “Relax. I’ll get it.”
He managed to get the coffee started just as the pan was hot enough for the eggs. “I realize I still owe you,” he said.
A dark brow rose quizzically. “Owe me?”
“French food and a story,” he reminded her. “I said I would tell you why I hate frogs.” He poured the eggs into the pan and swirled the yellow creamy curds with a spatula.
She chuckled. “All right, tell me then.”
“Well,” he began, keeping his eyes on the eggs to make sure he didn’t overcook them. “While changing between our animal and human sides is an instinct for shifters, we still need to practice, and so most parents teach their kids how to do it. I was about four or five when I had my first shift. My dad took me out behind our property so I could practice in peace. Unfortunately, my sisters snuck up on us. One of them—I can’t remember, but it was probably Gwen—put some frogs in my clothes so that when I put them on, they stuck to me, and I couldn’t get them off.” As he usually did, he shivered visibly when he thought about that. “I don’t remember much of what happened after, only that I was screaming, and my dad came to help me.”
“You poor thing,” Temperance said. “No wonder you don’t like them.”
“I know it’s irrational, but I really do have all these physical reactions when I see them.”
She shook her head. “Not irrational at all. Sometimes, things in our past stick with us, whether we realize it or not. I’m sorry, that was mean of them.”
“Thank you.” Her concern touched him; the few people he hung out with these days who knew about his phobia still joked about it. “All right, I hope you’re hungry.”
“That’s a lot of eggs,” she commented. “You’re going to eat some of that, right?”
“Of course.”
After he finished plating the eggs, he garnished it with some chopped green onions and pepper. “Et voilà. Oeufs brouillés, mademoiselle.” He placed a plate in front of her. “Don’t ask me to speak any more French. I’m afraid I nearly failed it back in high school.”
“Thank you.” She leaned over and took in a whiff. “Oh my God, that smells amazing.”
“Why don’t you take them over to the couch and we can eat there? It’ll be much more comfortable than sitting on these stools.” He nodded toward the living area. “I’ll get our coffees.”
“Thanks,” she said, picking up both plates.
After pouring the coffee into two mugs, he joined her on the massive plush sectional couch. “Here you go,” he said, handing her one of the mugs, then picked up his plate from the coffee table.
“Bon appétit,” she said and then took a forkful of eggs into her mouth. “Oh. Mmmm.”
Gabriel swallowed hard as the satisfied sound she made went straight to his groin. Shifting in his seat uncomfortably, he placed the plate on his lap. As he ate his eggs, he couldn’t help but glance over at her, watching as she savored each bite of food he made. It was ironic, really, that he’d been eating her food all these months and enjoying it, and now here she was, consuming something he had made.
They ate in comfortable silence, and once she finished her plate, she put it aside. “Thank you, Gabriel, that was an amazing meal.”
His lion was extremely pleased that their mate was fed. “You’re welcome.” His mouth suddenly went dry as she stretched her legs out in front of her, his eyes tracing a path up her shapely calf, knees, and the creamy skin of her thighs not covered by fabric. God, I want to be a shirt so bad.
“I should check on my clothes in the dryer,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the couch. As she got up, however, she let out a sharp yell and fell back. “Oomph!”
Immediately, he sprang into action, catching her in his arms, and they
