Page 105 of Solid as Steele
She tugged him to his feet. “Then you’re about to learn.”
She took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen. She tossed him a black apron that said, World’s Best Barbecuer. “Put that on.”
He groaned.
She arched an eyebrow. “You want to work in my kitchen—you follow my rules.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted her.
She laughed and slipped a plain blue apron over her neck. “Don’t tell my gran that I’m channeling her. She’d love it, but I’d never live it down.”
“My lips are sealed,” he said. “Except maybe to finish that coffee and banana bread.”
“Go ahead and grab it while I get out the ingredients we’ll need.” She shooed him away.
He bolted for the family room, tying the apron on the way. He’d never put an apron on in his life. At least this one was black and made for a guy. He wouldn’t be caught dead in something frilly. Unless of course Mackenzie asked him. Then he would probably put it on in her presence only.
He’d never acted this way before. Smitten was the word that came to mind. He was starting to see why guys who really fell for a woman did things they normally wouldn’t be caught dead doing.
He grabbed the plate and mug and hightailed it back to the island and sat. He shoved a large piece of the bread into his mouth then chased it down with coffee. The banana flavor and crunchy walnuts were heaven in a loaf. “If your gran ever did adopt me, I would seriously have to up my workout game to make up for the calories consumed.”
“She’s responsible for half my workouts.” Mackenzie laughed and faced him. “Time to crack eggs. Tell me you’ve done that.”
“Um. Well…no. My mom is kind of like your gran, and she’s always spoiled me. And after Cassie went missing, she threw herself into feeding me all the time, and I couldn’t say no because it helped her attitude so much. I kinda go by their place for breakfast three or four times a week.” It was likely more often than that, but he didn’t want to admit it to Mackenzie.
She smiled at him. Maybe she appreciated his devotion to his mom.
She crooked her finger. “Come here, and I’ll show you how.”
He polished off the bread and took another sip of coffee before joining her at the sink.
“I’ll do a few while you watch. The important thing is not to get shells in the bowl. But if you do, we can fish them out.”
She expertly, or at least it seemed expertly to him, cracked four eggs then slid the carton to him. He hit the first one on the bowl and it crumbled in his fingers, leaving them dripping and gooey.
“Not that forceful.” She took his hand and put a fresh egg in it then gently tapped it against the bowl. He should be paying attention to the technique, but all he noticed was the touch of her fingers and warmth from her body.
He discarded the shells and turned to look at her. Her face was inches from his. Gooey hands or not, he bent down and kissed her. He didn’t know how she would react, but he didn’t expect her to twine her hands around his neck and draw him closer.
The kiss deepened, and he wanted to hold her, but egg goop kept his hands away. She didn’t seem to notice he wasn’t holding her but wormed even closer. His whole being exploded with emotions he’d never experienced before.
He almost said forget the mess he would make of her clothing with his eggy fingers and pulled her tighter, but his phone rang, bringing him back to reality. He drew back. “I should get that. Must be important at this time of the morning.”
He quickly rinsed his hands and dried them then dug out his phone. Lieutenant Sage.
Owen answered his supervisor’s call. “LT, what’s up?”
“Hope I didn’t wake you.” The guy never engaged in small talk. He was a straight to the point guy. So this couldn’t be good news.
“I was up,” Owen said. “What’s going on?”
“There was a fifty-car pileup in dense morning fog on I-5 heading north out of Salem.”
“That’s rough.” Owen was sorry for everyone involved but this was not the first massive pileup on I-5 in fog so not a surprise. “Is there a reason you’re calling to tell me?”
“Five people died, and when I saw the list of fatalities, I thought you would want to know. Keith Collins was there and got out of his vehicle to try to stop oncoming traffic. He was sandwiched between an eighteen-wheeler and van. He didn’t make it.”
“Oh, man. No.” Cassie’s husband had died. Blood rushed from Owen’s brain. He dropped onto the stool. “Have my parents been told?”
