Page 90 of Grim
He complies instantly. “One fork.”
“Thank you, Seek. You may go.”
“With pleasure.” He smiles and disappears back into the wall.
“It’s happening,” Rue announces with glee.
“Good. Keep stirring. You’re almost there.”
The eggs begin to solidify in the pan, turning a rich, dark yellow in the center.
“When are they done?” Rue asks.
“Keep folding and turning them until you can no longer see any liquid. And the second that happens, pull them from the pan and plate them.”
She stirs with a laser focus, eyes transfixed on the pan. I bring my arm around her shoulder and grab a pinch of salt from the jar to the right of the stove. I breathe in her intoxicating scent of vetiver and violet. I sprinkle the salt over the eggs, then move slightly away from her.
“Now?” she asks innocently.
“Now,” I confirm.
She pulls the pan from the heat, uses the spatula to plate them, and then looks at her handiwork. “Now what?”
I laugh at her confused expression. “Now, you eat, Rue. Enjoy the fruits of your labor. They are best when they’re hot. Try a bite right away.”
She takes her fork and stabs into the fluffy eggs. I watch as she brings them to her soft lips, feeling a certain amount of envy for that fork.
As her mouth wraps around the bite, the moan it elicits is instant and decadent. “Oh my, Grim. These are incredible.”
I smirk, loving the look on her face and the sound she just made. “I’m glad you like them.”
“I wish you could have some too.”
“I’d want you to practice a few more times before I deign to try your attempt at a soft scramble.”
I smile at her and move to a seat in the kitchen. She devours her plate, inhaling three eggs almost entirely before I’ve even taken a seat.
Good, I think to myself.You’re gonna need the energy.
“Maybe I’ll make some more right now. Those were incredible. I had no idea eggs could have that much flavor.”
“You can coax wonderful flavor out of many things, if you’re willing to take your time with them.” I pausebriefly, seeing if she clocks the innuendo. I can’t be sure based on the look on her face, but we have more pressing matters to attend to, so I change topics. “Now sit down. Take a load off your hoopity-floopity slipperdoos. I have something I need to tell you.”
“You mean hippity-hoppity flippity-floppities? Okay.” She smiles and parks her ass in a chair at the small breakfast nook in the kitchen.
My lip curls as I stare at the monstrosities on her feet. “Hippa floppa what?”
The vibration of my Tombstone Phone pulls me away, and I glance down to see a message from Big D.
Big D: Hey there, Kane. Just popping in to say how excited I am to be hosting you and your plus-one at this year’s gala. It’s going to be a scream. —Big D
A second later, he follows up with an image of his face in place of the central figure in Edvard Munch’sThe Scream.
I take a deep, steadying breath so as not to scream myself.
The silence stretches. Rue fills it.
“First off, don’t look at my hippity-hoppity flippity-floppities like you’re better than them.”
