Page 40 of Three Irish Kings
I forgot that she’s going to eventually need to eat, and it’s been a whole day since we took her. She must be hungry.
“I’ll cook something.”
I keep the house stocked in case we ever have to use it as a safe house. I’ve honestly thought about expanding the place; it sits on five acres, and I could build a mansion where this house stands.
But in the end, I can’t bear to take down my mother’s doodads, her fairy lights. I can’t bring myself to bulldoze the only place I’ve ever had a mother.
“You know how to cook?”
I smirk. “I know more than you think.”
“That much is becoming clear.”
I head to the fridge, quickly taking out the ingredients for breakfast: French toast, eggs, bacon. By the time I’m finished, Maggie is nearly drooling, staring at me from the kitchen table.
“I take it you’re not a cook."
“Far from it.” She takes the plate from me and digs in with a gusto I would have thought the Marine Corps has when eating.
I fight a smile as she digs into the bacon, nearly growling in the back of her throat.
“I guess it’s good I can cook. You might have eaten me if I didn’t make you something.”
“Oh, you would be so lucky.”
I lick my lips, watching her eat before digging in myself.
It’s good, if I do say so myself, the French toast spongy and sweet with powdered sugar, eggs fluffy, bacon salty.
She clears her plate and a second one, and finally sits back from the table, putting a hand on her belly.
“That was honestly so good, but I’m not sure if it’s because you’re a good cook or I just haven’t eaten in too long.”
“Fair enough.” I start loading the dishwasher, and as I’m doing so, something crashes behind me.
I calmly put down the pan I’m washing and turn around to see Maggie’s ass wiggling at me from the small kitchen window.
I almost bark out a laugh but manage to keep it in, watching her struggle to get out the window.
I walk out the back door, around to the side to see her struggling there, her face flushed as she tries to maneuver her way out.
“You can’t fit.”
“Are you seriously calling me fat right now? This is your fault. If I hadn’t eaten all that French toast...”
“I don’t think a few pieces of French toast made you get stuck. I don’t think any human can get through that window. Besides, wide hips are a sign of fertility.”
“Great. Perfect information to have right now.” She huffs. “Get me out!”
I can’t help but start to laugh.
She pouts at me, glaring with those hazel eyes with the green flecks that keep showing up in my dreams.
“I'll get you out if you promise to be good.”
She snorts. “Fat chance.”
I cross my arms over my chest, not willing to play her games. “Then I guess you’ll just be stuck there forever.”
