Page 9 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

“Good reaction.” Ethan smiles and takes a long sip of his coffee.

My blood is boiling. “That’s not funny and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Tough shit, Melissa. You’re in my house now. I need to make sure I can trust you.”

“I thought Warden Jeffries clarified any doubts you might’ve—”

“I don’t care about your warden’s opinion,” Ethan shoots back. “I build my own, based on what I see and hear right here.”

I need a deep breath for this. “My eggs. Shit,” I mumble and turn back to the stove, rushing to stir and keep the scrambling at the appropriate softness before I dump the whole pan into a separate bowl.

He’s still watching me.

Heat pools between my legs.

“My methods may be unorthodox, but I know what I’m looking for.”

“And what are you looking for?”

I turn around again, this time to get a clean pan on the stove while the other goes into the sink.

“Someone we can trust with our most vulnerable side,” Ethan says.

“Your stomachs?” I chuckle softly as I start mixing the pancake batter next. My recipe is quick and simple, so about one minute later, I’m pouring the first pancake into the simmering pan.

“We can start there, yeah,” Ethan’s voice tickles my ears.

I didn’t even hear him get up, let alone walk over to my side of the kitchen and get so close to me. “What do you mean… start there?” I manage, afraid to turn around.

I get a whiff of his soap, and my fingers tingle with the thought of touching his skin.

I glance over my shoulder and see him leaning against the counter island. There are several inches between us, but the air feels thick enough to slice as I try to focus on preparing the rest of the pancakes.

“I’m not sure yet,” Ethan says, his voice sounding like a purr in the back of my head. “I guess we’ll figure it out as we go along as long as you don’t betray our trust.”

Instantly, my back stiffens, and I answer him curtly. “I have no intention of going back to prison,” I tell Ethan. “As a matter of fact, I have no intention of ever getting on the wrong side of the law ever again.”

“That’s good,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I glance back and catch my breath. He’s so tall that he towers over me and when Colton enters the kitchen I can note how the resemblance between him and Ethan is striking.

Unlike Ethan, however, Colton seems to be in a better, brighter mood. “Good morning, Melissa,” he says. “Hope you slept well.”

“Like a baby,” Ethan replies in my stead as I finish flipping the last of the pancakes.

“Glad to hear that,” Colton chuckles and stops by the coffee machine first.

“Who slept like a baby?” Mitch asks, coming into the kitchen.

“Melissa,” Colton tells Mitch.

“Ah, good. That’s a new bed, by the way,” he quips, patiently waiting for Colton to brew him a cup as well. “We got it especially for you.”

“I’m beyond grateful,” I reply, half-smiling as I place the pancakes on a large platter, then drizzle maple syrup on top, followed by a sprinkle of powdered sweetener and handfuls of berries and roasted pumpkin seeds.

The food catches Colton’s eye. “That looks incredible.”

“And edible,” Mitch adds, equally enthralled.

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