I peeked over my shoulder at Daniel, who was murmuring something I couldn’t hear to Garrett.
Was he?
He was hot. He cooked. He made sure I had coffee and that I was always fed.
He kissed me like he wanted to devour me. In the good way, not the carnivorous way.
But he kidnapped me.
Well, held me hostage anyway.
Shit. Was I really going to argue with myself about this?
Yes, apparently I was.
I chopped peppers and part of the onion I found in a basket on the counter. Somehow, I managed to tune out the conversation behind me as I went back and forth in my mind.
Okay, so he took me hostage when I realized he was a vampire. But only because he was afraid, I would reveal the existence of vampires and shifters and other creatures to other people and put them in danger. He also got me ice for my head after I fell.
And handcuffed me to the bed.
Shit. That was still a con rather than a pro.
He chased me through the woods when it was cold and dark. Then, he fed me a sandwich and hot cocoa.
Dammit. This wasn’t going well. According to my own internal argument, Daniel wasn’t boyfriend material. At all.
He was a walking red flag. No, he was a parade of red flags. Waving proudly and completely in your face.
I whisked the eggs with some seasonings in a bowl while the onions and peppers sautéed in the pan.
The smell of bacon cooking wafted from the oven as I poured the eggs into a skillet. A cup of coffee appeared on the counter next to me.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Daniel walking back toward the kitchen table. I’d been so involved in my mental argument that I hadn’t even noticed him get up from the table.
“Thanks,” I said to his back.
He shrugged a shoulder in reply before he sat down facing Garrett.
I went back to making the frittata and realized my mental gymnastics didn’t matter. I found him attractive. Even if he was my captor.
My hormones didn’t give a damn what my common sense said. They liked Daniel just fine.
I bit back a sigh as I messed with the settings on the stove. When I put the bacon in the oven, I realized that there were two ovens, a smaller one on top and a larger one on the bottom. So, the bacon had gone into the bottom oven and the frittata was going into the top.
By the time the eggs were ready to go into the oven, it was up to temperature.
I slid the pan into the top oven and picked up my coffee. As I sipped, I decided to make a fruit salad to go with the eggs and bacon. All that fat and grease needed something to break through.
I walked over to the fridge and opened it, only to realize it wasn’t quite as well stocked as I’d thought. It seemed Daniel wasn’t big on fruit. He had tons of vegetables and meat and just about everything else a girl could want, except fruit. I managed to unearth a container of cubed cantaloupe and two oranges in the crisper. It wasn’t great but I could make do.
In another ten minutes, everything was ready, so I carried the bowl of fruit to the table. Before I could bring over the plate of bacon and the frittata, Garrett came over and grabbed them both. Daniel got the stack of plates and silverware I’d placed on the counter while I was waiting for the food to finish.
“Thanks for breakfast,” Garrett said before he took his first bite. “Smells great.”
“You’re welcome,” I answered.
We ate in silence for a few moments before the police chief fixed a sharp stare on me.
