Page 26 of Toxic Salvation
The line goes dead. I call him back twice, but he doesn’t answer either attempt.
Perfect. The last thing this already tenuous situation needs is my overprotective brother storming Kovan’s fortress to defend my honor. I throw on yesterday’s clothes and hurry downstairs to warn Kovan that Hurricane Waylen is headed our way.
The kitchen smells incredible—fresh bread, scrambled eggs, something sweet baking in the oven. Under normal circumstances, the scents would make my mouth water. Today, they make my stomach revolt.
“Morning,” Kovan greets me from behind the stove, spatula in hand. “Thought I’d make you breakfast.”
I scan the counter for my salvation and notice something missing. “Where’s the coffee machine?”
“Moved it to my office. No point in torturing you unnecessarily.”
My jaw drops. “You relocated the coffee maker because of me?”
“You can’t have caffeine anymore, and we both know you’re an addict. I was being considerate.”
I slide onto one of the barstools facing him. “A little coffee during pregnancy isn’t dangerous.”
He turns to face me fully, and I catch the protective determination in his eyes. “Vesper.”
“Relax. I haven’t been drinking coffee,” I grumble. “I just miss it. You might miss it, too, when I’m waddling around here with an ass the size of Texas.”
His mouth curves into an actual smile. “I’ve always been partial to Texas.”
I blush and hide behind the glass of water he slides across the counter. “What are you making?”
“Eggs and toast.” He plates what looks like a perfect omelet. “Thought you might be hungry.”
My stomach lurches at the thought. “I can’t eat eggs. They make me want to die.”
“Toast then?”
I shake my head. “Too heavy. Makes me feel bloated and gross.”
He sets down his spatula and studies me. “Whatcanyou eat?”
“You don’t have to cook for me.”
“You’re pregnant with my child. You need nutrition, and I’m perfectly capable of providing it. Just tell me what sounds good.”
“Does that offer extend beyond food?”
He grins—an actual, honest-to-goodness grin that transforms his entire face. “Careful, or I might think you’re flirting with me.”
Zero chance of that,I think to myself. Out loud, I say, “How about hashbrowns? No onions.”
“Coming right up.” He scrapes the omelet aside and returns to the stove.
“By the way,” I say, “Waylen’s on his way over.”
Kovan doesn’t even pause in his potato preparation. “I’ll make extra.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking. “He sounded pretty angry on the phone.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can handle your brother.”
“Can you handle him without bloodshed? That’s the real question.”
“That’s his choice, not mine.” He pulls a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and pours me a glass. “The baby needs vitamin C,” he explains. He sets it in front of me, then braces his hands on the counter. “We should talk about this. The pregnancy.”
