Page 51 of Séance

“So you did,” he says indulgently. “Now do it again.”

Refusing to feel flustered by his nearness, I nod once and turn back to my task. When he steps toward his station, I frown, suddenly cold now that he’s no longer close. Pushing aside my annoyance to study later, I grab the next egg.

I manage to get the egg into the bowl with minimal shells.

Well, most of it, anyway.

“Good job.” Jaceson doesn’t even look up from his task. “Now go wash your hands.”

Once done, I lean my hip against the counter and watch in awe as he wields the knife like he’s some ninja. “I would so be missing a finger if I tried that.”

Jaceson quirks a single brow at me as he quickly cuts the last pepper. When he sets his knife down, he glances at me with a furrow between his eyes. “I’ll show you how to cut vegetables properly next time.”

My insides turn to goo at the thought of spending more time with him, and I smile in appreciation. “I’d like that.”

He clears his throat, looking away from me, and my shoulders droop when he yanks open a drawer and fumbles with the forks. I lower my eyes, wondering if I did something wrong. Before I can second-guess myself, he thrusts the utensil at me, handle first, and points toward the bowl. “Mix them up.”

Though his voice is gruff, I don’t sense that he’s angry, but it’s not the first time I’ve been tricked.

When no retaliation comes, I gingerly accept the fork, then stir the eggs…and scowl when the fuckers evade my attempts. “What the fuck?” I mutter to myself, stirring the eggs faster. To no avail.

A snort from across the room catches me by surprise, and I jerk my head up. Jaceson is bent over, wheezing with laughter. Instead of being offended, I smile at seeing him so relaxed and carefree.

With one last chuckle, he straightens and smiles at me with a genuine grin that freezes me in place. Thankfully, he’s oblivious to my reaction. “No, not like that. Whisk them.”

He grabs the bowl in one hand, the fork in the other, then mixes them together so fast that the eggs froth. He stops, thenhands the bowl over, and I accept it without protest. I nibble my lip nervously, afraid to admit I’d been admiring the strong flex of his arms more than I’d been watching his technique. It takes me three tries before I get the hang of it, and Jaceson nods in satisfaction.

After the eggs are thoroughly mixed, Jaceson nudges me back to my seat, and I’m content to watch as he locates a pan and sets it on the stove. He turns on the heat and adds a healthy dollop of butter to the skillet. It’s not long before it melts and a yummy smell fills the room.

He adds some salt, pepper, and other spices to the eggs, then he pours the concoction into the hot pan. As I watch him cook, I find my attention drifting to his strong shoulders and slim hips again and again. The more time we spend together, the more comfortable I feel around him, and it’s an odd sensation.

Less than ten minutes later, a delicious omelet covered in cheese oozes over two plates. He sprinkles more spices and chives across the top, then he digs into the drawer and hands me two forks.

By the time I look up, he’s carrying both plates. “Let’s head into the living room.”

I nod and follow, unsure if I’m high on the smell of delicious food or him. He sets the plates on the coffee table and takes a seat on the small couch. I sit next to him, only inches separating us, but he doesn’t notice as he turns on the television and starts a movie.

He grabs the forks from me, places one on each plate, then hands me one of the dishes. Taking the last plate for himself, he leans back against the couch, props his feet on the coffee table, and digs into the omelet with a big bite.

Never having eaten anywhere but at a table or a desk in my room, I mimic his posture. I’m surprised to find that it’s both awkward and comfortable at the same time.

When I bite into the omelet, my eyes widen in wonder as flavors explode across my tongue. I moan as I chew, barely paying attention to the movie as I inhale my food. I’m so used to the basics of bread and water and bland noodles that I didn’t realize such simple foods could taste so good.

By the time I scrape the last bit of cheesy goodness off my plate, I’m stuffed. It’s only then that I notice the silence. I peer at Jaceson from the corner of my eye, barely holding back a grimace when I find him staring at me with an expression I can’t quite name. If I didn’t know better, I would almost say it’s hunger, but a man like him could have any woman. No way would he be interested in a mess like me.

I stiffen, but he only shoves another forkful of eggs into his mouth, clearing his plate. Even before he finishes chewing, he grabs my dish from my hand, stacks it on his own plate, then sets them aside.

Without looking at me, he settles back against the cushions. “Have you seen this movie yet?”

His voice is deceptively calm—something I trained myself to listen for when dealing with my father. I swallow hard, then I focus on the screen and shake my head. “No, my father thought if I had time to watch this crap, then my studies must not be hard enough.”

It’s Jaceson’s turn to stiffen, but I purposely don’t look at him, watching some superheroes fighting on the screen. To my surprise, it’s not long before I’m completely engrossed in the movie. I’m not aware of time passing until Jaceson shifts, then slumps toward me with a soft snore. Maybe I should be offended, but I find his presence soothing. I ease over to make more room for him, but I miscalculate and the cushion below me shifts under my weight.

Jaceson’s head somehow finds its way into my lap. My breath catches at having him so close, his warmth seeping into me. Themovie is completely forgotten as I watch the smooth rise and fall of his chest.

After a moment’s pause, I hesitantly reach forward and smooth the hair out of his face. He turns into my touch, and I almost jerk away when I think he’s about to wake. Instead, he settles back into my lap. Unable to help myself, I run my fingers across his scalp.

The gesture seems to soothe him. He snuggles closer, and one of his hands wraps possessively over my knee as if to make sure I won’t escape. His touch feels so intimate that I barely resist the urge to squirm, only stopping myself for fear that I’ll disturb him. I stare blindly at the television, more content than I have ever been in my life…because of him.

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