Page 130 of The Making of Marnie Jones

He tipped his imaginary hat. “My pleasure, ma'am.”

As he hoped, she blushed prettily. With a grin, he left.

After a quick shower, he was in the kitchen scrounging for the ingredients for pancakes. He was pulling out the flour when Olivia joined him, Bianca in tow.

“What’re you cooking?”

“Pancakes.”

“May I help?”

Her look was one of earnestness, and he couldn't refuse.

“I don't use a recipe.” He grabbed the milk from the fridge.

Her face brightened as she pulled out paper and a pen. “I'll take notes.”

“Fair enough.” He petted Bianca who immediately rewarded him with a sloppy kiss. “Has the dog gone out yet?”

“She's done her business. I’ll take her for a longer walk after breakfast.”

He tried not to laugh at her wrinkled nose. “That's a good idea.” He hid his pleasure and pointed to the pen and paper before washing his hands. “You break the eggs into a bowl with milk…”

Over the next twenty minutes, he took her through each step while she took notes. He let her cook the pancakes, guiding her on how to brown them without burning. Finally, he showed her how to add a dash of cinnamon and powdered sugar.

“Smells delicious.”

He stepped over to greet Marnie with a sound kiss on her lips.

This time, her blush was less pronounced.

She was embracing their new intimacy, and gratitude nearly brought him to his knees.

As Marnie leaned over to greet Bianca, he brought over the plate, piled high with pancakes. Because Olivia’d already set the table, they sat immediately.

After the first bite, Marnie's face lit up. “This is amazing.”

“Thank Olivia. She was the one who did the cooking.”

“With Jake's help.”

He wanted to deflect the praise back toward her but wasn’t going to push. There’d be plenty of chances later to praise her and help build her self-esteem. “Did you have fun last night?”

Olivia grinned and embarked on a fifteen-minute retelling of her escapades from the night before.

Good. It’d simply been a night at the Raceway and coffee at Tim Horton's with a group of Tristan’s friends.

Olivia possessed a talent. She wove even the most mundane of events into a tale of interest. Not that the previous night had been boring. Just that her enthusiasm was infectious. She was a true raconteur.

By the time she finished her story, they’d consumed breakfast.

When Marnie stood to scoop up the plates, Jake and Olivia made to join her.

“Don't you dare.” She stuck her hands on her hips. “You guys cooked—you let me clean.”

He wanted to argue, but this played into his plan. “Well, Olivia’s going to take Bianca out for a long walk, and I need to get something from my room.”

Marnie's brow furrowed momentarily, and then she seemed to recover her easygoing nature. “Sounds good.”

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