Page 79 of Gideon's Gratitude

The kiss.

The offer to take care of Lucky.

Okay. Sonothow I’d thought this morning might go. The clock read nearly nine. I’d slept, with the exception of our little interlude of pleasure, nearly twelve hours.

Gingerly, I rolled out of bed, planting my feet on the ground. My back ached, but not as much as I expected. I stretched experimentally.

Not bad.

I gazed down at my naked body and limp dick.

Not bad.

Nice to know the equipmentstill works.

I headed for the shower, shivering a little as I went. I wasn’t sure how long Archer and Lucky would be gone, and I wanted to make a start on breakfast before they got back. But as much as I longed to hurry, I took a few moments to let the hot spray hit my back. The relaxation from the orgasm still lingered in me, and contentment seeped into my bones.

The accident had taken so much away from me. At least it hadn’t taken this.

I dried off and wrangled into my jeans and a button down. I tried to style my hair, but the results were questionable. I sat to put on socks, then slid my feet into my slippers.

Need to turn up the heat.

Or turn on the fire. I always felt guilty about either of those options, but getting chilled didn’t serve me in good stead. And I had a guest. Wouldn’t do to have Archer get cold either.

I headed downstairs. I flipped on the gas fireplace, and then pivoted to the kitchen. In the pantry, I located mix for pancakes. I snagged everything I needed from the fridge—including the bacon—and set about making the meal. I flipped the coffeemaker on as I cooked the first round of pancakes. I could make extra and have them for lunch. Melodie adored pancakes, and I used to make them with mouse ears.

Maybe again. Someday.

I had no right to be optimistic. Nothing had truly changed from yesterday to today. Well, except I’d seen Kennedy, and I was within a heartbeat of asking for Archer’s help. From what I gleaned, the man was one of the best divorce lawyers in Vancouver. I couldn’t afford him, but hehadoffered to help for free.

Hope flared within me. Supervised visitation would be okay. Even just a few hours a couple of times a month. I wouldn’t be greedy. I’d do whatever it took to see Melodie and Trevor again.

The smell of burning wafted up.Pay attention.I slid the golden brown, but fortunately not singed, pancakes onto a plate that I put in the oven. I poured the next batch and set about cooking the bacon.

The backdoor opened and shut. Following were the sounds of a leash being unclipped, a jacket being unzipped, boots being removed, and then just general noise. Likely Archer trying to wrangle Lucky and get him rubbed down.

Soon the dog appeared at the entryway to the galley kitchen. He sniffed the air.

“Not for you.”

At the crestfallen expression, I smiled. “I’ll get you some food.” Within moments I had the food scooped, and the dog was digging in.

“That smells great.”

I spun to find Archer leaning against the doorjamb. His blond hair was a little wind-tousled, and his eyes were bright in the morning light.

Last night’s storm was a long-ago memory.

“It’s just pancakes and bacon.”

He advanced toward me with a predatory expression in his eyes.

Oh.I backed up against the sink.

He hesitated.

I nodded.

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