I catch the photo frame and smile apologetically at her as I hand it back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Her cheeks flush pink, and she takes the photo frame and puts it back. “It’s not your fault I’m jumpy. I was looking at your stuff.”
“Look at whatever you want, Maisie. This is home for however long you want it to be.”
I try not to feel too pleased when her gaze darts to my bare chest and lingers, her cheeks flushing a deeper red.
“How about I make us some breakfast?” I suggest hiding my smile. “I was going to go knock on your door when I heard you in here.”
It’s only half a lie. I had intended to go upstairs to knock on her door and see if she wanted me to take breakfast up to her. She’s been asleep a long time, but she looks well-rested, her voice only slightly raspy, so it’s sleep she must’ve needed.
“Breakfast sounds good,” she says.
As I lead the way to the kitchen, I ask her, “What do you feel like?”
She’s staring at my ass. I definitely feel her attention. I pretend not to notice her yanking her eyes toward the refrigerator when I turn around to meet her gaze.
“I’m not fussy. Whatever you would have made for yourself.” She chews on her lip, and I force my eyes away from temptation.
“How about pancakes?” I suggest. “If you grab a seat, I’ll whip some up for us.”
She walks over to the dining table with six chairs in the middle of the kitchen and takes a seat, turning in her chair to face me and curling her bare toes on the hardwood floor. “You make pancakes?”
I shouldn’t have suggested that she sit down.
She’s probably naked under that shirt—myshirt—and sitting has made the hem of it rise over soft, rounded thighs.
“Elias?”
I yank my eyes from her bare legs to her face, rubbing a hand over my mouth. I clear my throat. “Uh, we have the box kind. Add two eggs and milk. It’s not exactly homemade, but it’s the best I can do.”
“That sounds good.” She looks around. “What about everyone else?”
I turn around to pull a large mixing bowl from one cupboard and the box of pancake mix from another. “Work.”
“Did they leave early?” She glances at the window over the sink.
“Not exactly. You want blueberries or choc chip?”
The question distracts her from the sun high in the sky and a conversation I’m in no hurry to have with her. “Um, blueberry.”
“Coming up.” We have half of a small container of blueberries in the refrigerator. It’s not enough for a big batch of pancakes, but I can do half a batch for her and choc chip for me.
“What time is it?” she asks. “I need to go to work today.”
With my back to her, I shut my eyes and let out a quiet sigh. Then I pull a container of eggs from the refrigerator and set it down on the counter beside the bowl and the pancake mix. “Wyatt texted Nico last night about the fire, and Nico called this morning to say not to bother going to work today.”
She sits back in her seat and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m fired.” Her eyes turn glassy, and she blinks them rapidly. “I mean, I knew I would be. Who would want me to work with them when I’m a danger to their business?”
Abandoning breakfast, I cross over to her and drop into a crouch, taking both her hands. “Not fired. You went through something intensely traumatic last night. Nico wants you to takethe day off to rest and recover. He’s stopping by with a couple of things for you. Mostly, he was just worried and relieved you came out okay.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
Her surprise catches me off guard. Doesn’t she have someone to care about her?
We have all been afraid to move too fast for her. She came to Rios with nasty bruises on her arms and her face. But maybe showing how I feel about her will give her more confidence in herself.
I tuck a strand of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear, letting my touch linger longer than it would have before. “Really.”
