"You should be taking it easy."
"I will. Later." She laughed to herself and brought the stack of pancakes to the small table, which was only large enough for two people.
"No syrup."
"I noticed," she shot back with a knowing smile before she turned back to the stove, returning with a small saucepan filled with liquid. "Brown butter syrup." She put two pancakes on her plate and poured an obscene amount of the syrup over them, closing her eyes while she moaned over the first three bites.
The sound was downright erotic and my cock twitched in my pants, not caring at all that there was a kid in the room. "I brought your car up."
Rosalee froze, her eyes going comically wide. "You did? You got it to work?" She jumped up from her seat, hand carefully cradling the baby's head as she darted to the window. "You did! But how did you get it to start? I tried like a thousand times, and it just made that dry, hacking cough sound."
I bit the inside of my jaw to avoid smiling. "It did that a few times before it started, but it barely made it here."
Her shoulders fell. "Okay, thanks. I'll still need a tow," she said, the last part to herself as she settled back in front of the pancakes. "Thank you, Xavier, for taking care of that. It was nice of you."
I grunted a response.
"Eat your pancakes." After another few bites, she set the baby back in her carrier. "Did you hear that?"
"No."
She glared at me and let out a low grunt. "Are you always so chatty?"
"No."
She put her hand under the girl and moved her around, and then I heard it—the distinct sound of paper crinkling. "I heard it again!" She picked her up and held her against her chest while she lifted the floral padding to reveal an envelope. "That's probably for you."
I stared at the envelope that now sat on the table and stared at me like we were sworn enemies. "Okay."
"Okay? You're not going to read it?"
"I will."
"When?"
"Later," I answered and shoved a forkful of pancakes in my mouth, smiling at the look of disbelief on her face.
Rosalee stared at me for a long moment, trying to figure me out.Good luck with that. Half the time, I can't figure myself out.Finally, she shrugged, returned the baby to the carrier,and finished off her breakfast while mine remained mostly uneaten. "Well, I wasn't planning on starting work right after the interview, so I need to grab a few things."
I frowned. "Like what? From where?"
"Like things, you know: clothing and toiletries, a phone charger, a laptop, and other life necessities. From the place where I lived—orusedto live—until today. Do you want an itemized list?"
"No," I barked.
She didn't shrink in the face of my attitude, which should've pissed me off, but instead, it only intrigued me more. "Okay, then. I'll call a tow truck and see if I can hitch a ride down the mountain with the driver. If not, I'll see if a rideshare will climb up here to pick me up. I'll grab my things and I should be back later this evening. Does that work for you?"
"No," I barked again.
Rosalee stared at me in confusion that quickly turned indignant. Her brows arched and a glint of anger lit her golden eyes. "Excuse me?"
"I can come down to pick you up. It's no problem." She shouldn't have to spend more money to get back up here when she would have to pay to have her car repaired.
She nodded. "That's sweet of you, Xavier, but I'm guessing you don't have an anchor for that car seat?"
"Shit," I bit out angrily. "I don't even know what that is."
"That's what I figured," she said in a way that coming from anyone else would've sounded like judgment. "If you can swing a few extra hours on your own, I can stop at the baby store in town and grab a few necessities before I come back, and you can just reimburse me in my first paycheck."
