Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Ugh.
“I have to go. Thanks for the invitation to lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, see you then. I’ll send Cam round to pick you up.”
“That’s not nec—”
“You can’t drive,” Cat interrupted in a no-nonsense voice. “Cam will collect you. Take care of that arm in the meantime.”
“Thanks.”
“I heard your voice and figured you were probably chatting with Cat or Lucy,” Gideon explained when Beth exited her room to find him still beating the eggs. “I didn’t want to start the omelet too early in case it got cold and rubbery.”
“What did you do while you waited?” she asked, casting a suspicious glance around her kitchen, and living room. What the hell did she think he had done? Snooped through her shit? Stolen her valuables?
“I dashed home for my phone charger,” he told her, hearing the stiff defensiveness in his voice. Why the fuck did he feel defensive? He’d done nothing wrong. “And changed into a fresh t-shirt while I was there.”
Her eyes dropped to his black Rolling Stones t-shirt. Something flashed in her eyes. It looked like disappointment. Weird. Maybe she didn’t like the Stones or something.
“I see.” Her right arm crept across her chest and her hand grabbed hold of her left bicep, while she stood uncertainly in the short hallway that separated her bedroom and bathroom from her living and working areas. Her office was tucked away in a room off the living room.
She was wearing a sage green tank top and a pair of white cotton shorts that ended just below her thighs. She was barefoot and her wavy hair was tied up in a high ponytail, a few damp tendrils had escaped the tie and curled around her face and in her neck.
Her face was bare of make-up, but she was pink-cheeked and looked as fresh and dewy as a newly plucked rose.
Gideon cleared his throat awkwardly at the sentiment. He had no idea where the fanciful notion had come from, it was uncharacteristic to say the least, but Beth seemed to drag the whimsy out of him at random times.
She nervously chewed on her soft, pink lower lip and Gideon swallowed to lubricate his suddenly dry, scratchy throat.
“You okay?” he asked, as he poured the beaten eggs into a sizzling skillet and kept his focus on the mixture, not wanting it to stick to the bottom of the pan. He sensed her moving toward the kitchen and he threw her a quick smile when she clambered onto the bar stool at the peninsula.
“I’m fine. Cat just called me.”
“I figured she would,” Gideon said, lifting the egg mixture a little from the sides of the skillet. “I had about a dozen missed calls from her and Cam.”
“They were concerned.”
“Naturally.”
“I told her you were kind.”
“Is that what I was?” Gideon asked, sparing her another glance as he added cheese, sauteed mushrooms, crisp bacon, along with thinly sliced bell peppers and tomatoes to the mix.
“I think you were very kind. Which I appreciate considering—” She stopped speaking abruptly and Gideon raised his brow curiously.
“Considering what?” he asked, as he slid the folded omelet onto a heated plate. He set the plate aside and quickly arranged a place mat, knife, fork, condiments, two slices of warm toast, and a glass of cranberry juice on the counter in front of her, before returning with the omelet and positioning the plate it in the center of the place mat with a little flourish.
She stared down at the large omelet for a moment, before looking back up at him with that adorable quizzical tilt to her head.
“Where’s yours?” she asked, and he shifted uncomfortably. “You didn’t make any for yourself?”
“I wouldn’t force my company on you like that,” he explained awkwardly. “I offered to make you an omelet; I didn’t invite myself to dinner.”
She made a cute little sound in the back of her throat that he assumed was meant to be a growl, but instead sounded like a purr. She slid from the stool, bustled into the kitchen and, before he knew it, Gideon was staring at a plate loaded with half of her fragrantly steaming omelet and a slice of toast.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he muttered, as she hopped back onto her stool. Truthfully, he was starving, he hadn’t eaten since breakfast and the one candy bar he’d gulped down at the hospital nearly three hours ago, was a distant memory.
“Eat,” she commanded him, in that bossy way of hers, pointing her fork at him authoritatively. “This omelet was too much for me anyway and I could hear your stomach growling from all the way across the room earlier.”
She tucked into her eggs with relish.
Gideon still stood behind the counter across from her and instead of shifting the place mat and utensils to her side of the counter, chose to stand and eat. He wasn’t going to argue with her when he was this hungry.