Page 71 of Ace of Spades
“Sure do,” I tell her, buttering the freshly cut slices of bread and toasting them in the frying pan. “There’s coffee on the counter over there.”
She follows my line of sight, immediately going to grab the cup and take a sip of approval.
“What are you making?”
“Breakfast sandwiches,” I tell her, her eyes lighting up as she comes to stand by me.
“Really? Those are my favorite. How did you know?”
“I can’t take credit for that, I ran into Debbie at the lodge.”
Hailey’s eyes widen, meeting mine.
“Debbie knows?”
“Relax, she’s not going to tell anybody.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I didn’t tell her anything. The thing about that woman is she’s wiser than she lets on, I swear she knows everything that’s going on around the ranch at all times.”
“Oh,” Hailey says, taking a seat at one of the bar stools lining the small kitchen island and sipping more of her coffee. “I don’t—um, I don’t think we should tell anybody about… whatever this is.”
“And what isthis, exactly,” I ask, giving her my most charming smirk.
Her sun-kissed cheeks redden.
“I mean… it’s… I don’t know, nothing I guess. It’s just sex, after all, right?”
“Right,” I confirm, though something sinks in my chest. Did I want it to be more thanjust sex? No, that would be ridiculous. Right? I didn’t do more than sex. And besides, it was Hailey, we could hardly stand each other half of the time.
A silence falls over us as I plate out sandwiches, sliding one over for her.
“Do you always cook breakfast?” she finally asks, taking a bite and letting out a little satisfied moan that sends a jolt straight to my groin.
“Not really, I’m more of a cereal-in-the-morning type of guy. It’s quick, easy and I can never get enough of the sweetened milk.”
“Are you a child?” she asks, covering her mouth as she lets out a giggle.
“Don’t lie to me, Sorrels. You know that’s the best part about eating cereal.”
“I only used to eat cereal when Grace, our cook, took a day off, which wasn’t very often,” she tells me.
“There was a period of time where cereal was all we could afford,” I tell her. “And even after that, mom was usually working two jobs, so she wasn’t ever home to cook us breakfast. Cereal was the safest option, especially with Dakota’s cooking. She might actually be a worse cook than you, honestly.”
She chuckles, but a sad look crosses her features, something almost akin to pity.
“Is that why you learned to cook? So you wouldn’t have to eat your sister’s cooking?”
“Pretty much,” I laugh, leaning over the counter as I take a bite, the perfectly runny egg yolks dripping onto my plate. “Mom was always exhausted when she’d get home, so I started making our dinners so that it would be one less thing for her to worry about. I wanted her to be able to relax and have a warm meal ready when she got home.”
“It sounds like you really stepped up for them. Your mom and Dakota, I mean.”
“I did my best to become the man of the house. After my father left, I felt like it was my duty to take care of them.”
“That must have been rough on you, having to grow up that fast.”
“I didn’t mind. At the end of the day, I’ve still always considered myself lucky. Yeah, my father was a piece of shit that left us to fend for ourselves, but I got a closer relationship with my mom and sister because of it. And yeah, I might have had to growup pretty fast, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still have a childhood. I had friends, I rodeoed, and I did well in school. Most of the time, at least—there was that one semester spent at the juvenile delinquent center.”
