Page 60 of Finding Elodie
“I love getting to know little things about you,” Scott said as he headed into the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t all that big, and the kitchen wasn’t too fancy, but the stove was gas burning and the refrigerator was stainless steel. It looked like the owners of the apartment complex had done their best to upgrade where possible. She watched Scott as he flitted around the kitchen, pulling out plates and opening the oven to retrieve whatever he’d stashed there.
“I’m sorry I slept so long,” she told him.
“It’s not an issue at all. There was no way I was gonna wake you, not when you looked so damn adorable all snuggled up in my bed,” Scott said.
“You watched me sleep?”
“Oh, yeah. After I showered in the guest bathroom after my run, I stood in the doorway, drank a cup of coffee and tried to figure out how I’d gotten so damn lucky to have you here with me.” He looked over at her. “And I know me running into you was pure luck, so I’m more grateful than I can say that someone was watching over us.”
Elodie could tell he really meant that. She swallowed hard, feeling emotional all of a sudden. She’d felt so alone for months, and simply being with him now made her feel as if a ray of sunshine had suddenly sprung out from behind the cloud that had been hanging over her head for so long.
“Here you go,” Scott said, not giving her a chance to respond. He placed a plate in front of her, and Elodie could only stare down at it in surprise.
“It’s not homemade,” Scott went on, “I’m not that talented. But I stopped on the way home from my run and grabbed some meat pies from a place not too far from here. I got you a chicken vegetable one. It might be a little spicy, but I’ve found that just brings out the flavor of the chicken more. I also grabbed a fresh mango and pineapple and cut them up as well. And because I’m a guy, I grilled some bacon to go with everything else. I pretty much limit myself to bacon on the weekends as a treat.”
Elodie stared at her plate, struggling to gain her composure.
“El? What’s wrong? If you don’t like it, we can find you something else,” Scott said, leaning toward her in concern.
Elodie shook her head. “It’s not that. It looks delicious.”
“Then what’s wrong?” Scott asked quietly.
“I just…I can’t remember the last time someone made me breakfast. Or dinner, for that matter. When you’re a chef, it’s just assumed that you’ll be the one cooking. And when I was in New York, I didn’t have time to date or for anyone to worry about what I was eating. On the cargo ship, it was much of the same. My job was to feed everyone else.”
She saw Scott sigh in relief. “Well, I can’t pretend that I won’t enjoy anything you make for me, but I don’t expect you to always cook for us. I enjoy grilling and experimenting now and then. I haven’t starved after thirty-six years of life. And I have to admit, I like looking after you, taking care of you. That sounds patronizing, and I’m sorry. I know you can take care of yourself. Maybe pampering is the better word. I like pampering you, even if it’s something small like picking up breakfast on my way home.”
“Thank you,” Elodie said softly.
“You’re welcome,” Scott returned. Then he leaned over and took her chin in his hand and kissed her before shifting back to his own seat.
They ate breakfast slowly, enjoying the morning and continuing to get to know each other. Elodie insisted on taking care of the dishes, since he cooked. There wasn’t much to do, as he’d already cleaned up after making the bacon.
She put their plates in the dishwasher and turned, letting out an oof as she ran smack dab into Scott.
“Jeez, you walk quietly. I had no idea you were behind me.”
He rolled his eyes. “SEAL, babe, remember?”
“I know, but still, it’s uncanny. I’m gonna have to put a bell around your neck so you don’t scare the crap out of me when you’re sneaking around.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she noticed how his gaze fell to her chest. She hadn’t closed the buttons he’d opened earlier, and without a bra, she knew he was getting quite the eyeful from his vantage point.
His hands shifted under the waistband of the sweats she was wearing. His fingers caressed her hips—and his eyebrows went up. “You aren’t wearing underwear under here?” he asked.
“Scott, the last time I saw my bra and underwear was in the foyer. I have no idea where they are now, and I wasn’t going to put them back on anyway. They’re dirty.”
“They’re in my washing machine,” Scott admitted. “I was gonna wash your dress too, but unfortunately, I need to take it to a seamstress to get it fixed before you can wear it again.”
He was damn cute. “It’s fine. The dress cost like fifteen bucks at an ABC Store. It’ll be cheaper to just go buy a new one.”
Scott shook his head. “Nope. You’re keeping that dress, and every year on our anniversary—the anniversary of when we found each other again—you’re gonna wear it when we go out and I’m gonna strip it off you when we get home, just like I did last night.”
God, she loved the thought of that. Not only the sex, but that he was thinking long term. It solidified her feeling that this wasn’t a casual fling for either of them. “I might gain weight and not be able to fit into it in the future,” she teased.
He shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “Then I’ll scour the Internet and find fabric just like it and have a new one made for you.”
Gah, he definitely knew all the right things to say. Elodie smiled up at him.
