“Mister Evan?” Miles flipped around.
“I… I’m okay.” Slowly exhaling, I carefully set the platter down. Time to admit defeat. “You know, I think I’ll take that break after all.”
“Of course. Let me help you.” Miles guided me over to the table in front of the bay windows. He then poured a fresh mug of coffee and brought it over, along with a donut. “Sit and rest for a while. Take as long as you need.”
“Thank you.” I sipped the coffee, sighing in comfort as the familiar brew hit my taste buds.
In truth? Sleep deprivation wasn’t the main reason behind my exhaustion. I’d probably pushed myself too hard, too soon. The mercenary’s fire attack had been powerful, causing severe injuries. Ones I needed to take more seriously.
Not that I’d admit it to my men.
Miles cast worried glances my way before scooping sweet breakfast rice into a bowl for another customer’s order.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m okay. Really.”
The demi-bear offered me another smile. It came easier now. “Have you chosen your attire for the ball?”
“Briar had a suit tailored for me,” I said, amazed that my handsome physician had found the time to do so. If I didn’t wake up beside him every morning, I would’ve sworn he’d never slept. “He hasn’t let me see it yet though. Just took my measurements and shooed me away.”
Miles chuckled. “I’m sure it’s lovely. Ellie helped me with my suit. It’s a dark shade of blue.”
Ellie was his girlfriend. And soon-to-be fiancée, by the sound of it. Miles lit up like a Christmas tree when talking about her.
“You look good in blue,” I told him.
A blush touched his cheeks. “It’s my favorite color.”
“Are you still going to make truffles for the ball?” I asked after taking a bite of my donut. His talents in the chocolate department far exceeded mine. He could temper and sculpt with it like nobody’s business.
“Yes, if that’s all right with you. Dark chocolate truffles with salted caramel filling.” A warm smile crossed his face. “I made a small batch to test the recipe, and Ellie ate every single one.”
“She and Rowan are like two peas in a pod,” I said, laughing. “When I make spicy rum truffles, he doesn’t let anyone else eat them. He snatches the tray and runs off with it.”
Miles echoed my laugh.
“Telling lies in here, I see.” Rowan shuffled into the kitchen, eyes barely open. His dark auburn hair was pulled back from his face, but one strand fell forward. Rebellious, just like him. “You damn well know I don’t like sweets.”
“Mhm. Tell that to the spicy truffles.”
He smirked, showing a peek of my favorite tooth. It hung lower than the others and had a slight point, like a vampire’s fang.
“Morning, Mister Rowan.” Miles slathered butter on a croissant and plated it with an assortment of fruit, then carried it to the table. “For your breakfast.”
“Thanks,” Rowan said before his smirk grew. Turned mischievous. “You’re so nice, Miles. I wouldn’t mind having you around more. Why couldn’t you be part of the harem?”
I almost choked on my donut. “Ro!”
“Oh.” A deep flush crept up the demi-bear’s neck. “I… well, I do love Mister Evan. Very much. Only, not in a romantic sense. You see, my heart belongs to Ellie and—”
“Ignore him, Miles,” I said, shooting my red-haired spy a look. “He’s a butthead.”
Said butthead looked awfully pleased with himself as he tore into the buttery croissant. Carbs were his weakness. He’d live off buttermilk biscuits and bread if he could. Roasted almonds too. And rum. Lots of rum.
Sometimes I felt he should’ve been a pirate instead of a spy. Drinking barrels of rum and sailing the high seas. Plundering booty.
“Did you see Lake before you came downstairs?” I asked and took another bite.
Rowan nodded. “He was in bed, playing with his wood.”
