Page 5 of Broken Soul

I take his hand in mine and we shake on our deal. When our palms touch, an electric charge ripples outward, shaking me to my core. His dark emerald eyes flash at the exact same time, and I know he felt it, too.

What the hell did I just agree to?

3

DIESEL

Isprinkle sea salt, rosemary, and garlic onto the hand-cut potato wedges in the pan in front of me, tossing everything together before setting it back on the burner. Next, I focus on whisking together eggs, half-and-half, and a few spices, making sure to aerate the mixture so the eggs are nice and fluffy.

This breakfast is going to be perfect. Yesterday at the shop, I had to make do with the scant ingredients on hand. Today, I want to show Odette that I can cook arealmeal. I can provide that for her. I can provide everything if she'd let me.

Stop it, I chastise myself. I don’t know much about the woman staying in my guest room, but I sense she’s going through a lot right now. She’s vulnerable and unsettled, trying to figure out her way in life. The last thing she needs is an emotionally unavailable oaf like me with ghosts of his past still haunting his every waking moment.

“Oh my gosh,” comes a whispered gasp from the entrance to the kitchen. “It smells amazing in here.”

I look up from the stove, my breath catching in my throat when I see Odette making her way over to me. After we got back here last night, she was exhausted. I can’t blame her. Ishowed her to her room and she crashed. Hard. I checked on her throughout the night but didn’t wake her. My princess needs her beauty sleep.

Nope. Not my princess. Not mine at all.

Odette must have woken up a little bit ago without me noticing. She’s freshly showered, her silky hair woven into a braid that hangs over one shoulder. The black, form-fitting slacks mold to her thighs and ass, and the red blouse she’s wearing showcases her ample breasts, though not in a crude way. Fuck, she’s all cleaned up and professional in her outfit. I want nothing more than to dirty her up. That thought has my dick twitching.Not right now, buddy.

The coffee maker beeps, startling me out of my trance. “Th-thanks,” I stutter out. “Coffee,” I say like a dork, pointing behind me. “Sit.” I nod toward the table, realizing I must sound like a goddamn caveman.

Odette gives me a radiant smile, one that I feel in the depths of my soul. It shines a light into the darkness, giving me hope for the first time since… Well, maybe for the first time ever.

I quickly finish up the scrambled eggs and plate them, adding a sprinkle of cheese on top and some chives. After loading up each plate with seasoned breakfast potatoes, I place a cup of freshly cut fruit on the side. Finishing off with a cup of coffee, I gather my morning offering to the goddess sitting at my table.

“This is forme?” Odette looks up at me, her blue eyes wide in disbelief. I nod and she blinks a few times, as if I’m playing some prank on her.

“Of course. I can make more than a mean ham and cheese sandwich,” I say with a smile, hoping to put her at ease.

“No kidding,” she murmurs, looking over the plate of food. “This all looks and smells incredible. Thank you, Diesel.”

I nod and run back into the kitchen for my breakfast and coffee before joining her at the table.

“Eat up,” I encourage, taking a giant bite of my scrambled eggs. Odette smiles, which was the goal. She seemed shy about eating around me yesterday, which is yet another mystery I’ll have to uncover. For now, I just want her to be comfortable around me.

Odette spears one of the potato wedges with her fork and lifts it up to her mouth. I can’t help but stare at her lips as she takes a bite. “Oh mygod,” she moans. I have to swallow down my lustful growl and look away from her before my mind wanders into dangerous places.

“Good?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“Life-changing,” she says around a mouthful of eggs. I grin and bask in her compliment, soaking up all of her praise. “Have you always enjoyed cooking?”

I pause mid-chew to consider her question.Do I enjoy cooking?

“I guess I never really thought about if I enjoyed it or not,” I tell her after finishing my bite of food. “I retired from the military and came back with a head full of crazy thoughts and no outlet or way to ignore them. I sort of took up cooking and baking as a way to stay busy. What’s that saying? Idle hands are the devil’s playthings.”

Odette scrunches up her nose, which makes me grin. “That’s an awful saying. I’m officially canceling it.”

“Oh yeah? Just like that?” I tease.

“Yup,” she says with a single, determined nod of her head. “Keep going,” Odette encourages. “Cooking gave you an outlet?”

I take a deep breath, not sure how to continue. I already shared more with her than I have with most people. “Idle hands aside, I guess I thought of cooking as a challenge. I’d look up a recipe and do research on the best ingredients, tools, and methods. Then I’d execute the perfect dish. Or fail miserably and feed the disaster to anyone I could pawn it off on. Sometimeseven stray dogs wouldn’t touch my mistakes. Which, now that I think about it, might be an apt metaphor for where I’m at in life.”

Why did I say all of that? I don’t talk about this shit. Odette is too young, too innocent to take on my burdens. I’d crush her with the weight of my baggage.

Odette places her soft, small hand over my much larger and rougher one. Her porcelain skin is in such contrast to my tanned and weathered flesh. Another representation of why we can’t be together.

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