Page 28 of Snow Harm, No Foul

“You wouldn’t want to be the one doing the cooking, then, I take it?”

I turn the burner off and spread out the cooked eggs before sprinkling some shredded cheese and pepper over them.

“No. I’m a cook out of necessity. Not out of passion,” I answer.

“That’s fair. I’m not bad in the kitchen, but I’m no chef.”

“What do you like to cook the most?”

“What do I like to cook the most, or what do I like to eat?”

“Both.”

She leans back on her hands, chest to the ceiling, and hums. “I love to bake. I’m not good enough to do it without a recipe or anything, but if I had the choice, I’d bake something before cooking a meal. And eating-wise . . . I really, really love mozzarella sticks. Or a thick piece of lasagne.Ooh, or maybe some tamales. I wouldn’t mind a heaping bowl of buffalo chicken dip, either, though.”

Her eyes nearly cross as she speaks, tongue swiping her lips like she can taste the food she’s describing.

I grab a plate from the shelf along the wall and slide her eggs onto the centre of it. She watches my movements with interest, and when I pass the plate to her, she pounces on it. Her stomachgrowls loudly, so I move quickly to find her a fork and hand it over.

Stabbing the prongs of the fork into the fluffy eggs, she says, “Oh, my god, I’m so hungry.”

“Eat, angel.”

She shoves the bite into her mouth and moans before starting to chew, already spearing more onto the fork. I move between her legs and settle my hands on her knees as she devours the food. My chest tightens as I watch, my primal instincts pleased that I’ve taken care of her. She deserves it.

“These are the best eggs I’ve ever had,” she says between bites.

“You’re just really hungry.”

“Can’t I be hungry and honest at the same time?”

I trace the curves of her knees. “Yeah, you can.”

She focuses back on her eggs, and I don’t move from my spot, too content exactly where I am. I’ve always made sure to eat breakfast every morning, and apparently, I need to help Ivy get into the habit as well. Especially now that she’s eating for two.

“What have you been doin’ for the last three weeks?” I ask bluntly.

She slows her chewing and swallows. “Working, mostly.”

“On the event?”

“You’ve been getting the emails, so you know the answer to that already.”

“I’ve gotten plenty’a emails, Ivy. From everyone but you.”

Her neck grows pink as she slides the fork along the plate to collect the small pieces of egg still left. “You were the one who was so concerned about the event. I thought you’d have been happy that I was keeping the focus there.”

“You’re what I wanted to talk about,” I reveal.

She snares my eyes as her mouth tips at the corner. “Really?”

With a tight exhale, I grip the edge of the countertop on either side of her legs and lean into her space. The air shakes around us, but I only push closer, letting my connection to her draw me in.

Ivy tips her head back, keeping our eyes locked even as I bring my mouth to her cheek.

“I missed you, Ivy. You weren’t supposed to run off that day. I had so many more plans for you that I had to let die. And now, you’re back with my fuckin’ baby in your stomach?”

I lift a cautious hand to rest against her lower belly. It’s naturally rounded, but not with a baby yet. There won’t be a bump there for a while. Still, the knowledge that there’s something growing beneath my palm intensifies my possessiveness.

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