Kimber rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Huh?”
“Do you like them a little runny or cooked reallywell?”
“Really well,” Kadensaid.
“Runny eggs are gross,” Kimberadded.
“Runny equals gross. Got it.” Chris nodded and opened more cupboards until he found a bowl. Pulling a fork from the drawer in front of him, he scrambled eggs under the intense scrutiny of two kids. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in such a nerve-wracking situation—not even when he’d been going through evaluation at the FBIAcademy.
They whispered to themselves while he stirred the eggs. He made eggs almost every morning, but this morning he felt like he was auditioning for a cooking show, presenting his creation to the top foodies in the country. Maybe they were the Gordon Ramsay of second and third grade and they were critiquing histechnique.
“Where can I find plates?” he asked, turning the burner off and moving the skilletover.
“Our plates are in the big bottom drawer,” Kadensaid.
“You have your ownplates?”
“Mine’s the purple one,” Kimbersaid.
Sure enough, a stack of plastic colored plates and utensils took up the bottom drawer. Still hunched over, he asked, “Kaden, what color do youwant?”
“Orange.”
Chris pulled out the requested plates and matching forks. When he rose from his crouch, Kimber was whispering in Kaden’s ear. “What’s up? Are these the wrongplates?”
Kaden shook his head. “No. She wants to know if you’re going to do her hair forschool.”
He…what? No. He was not trained for that. “Uh, I think we’ll wake your aunt up to do that. I would probably make a horrible mess of it.” There was no probably about it. Even the idea of trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with Kimber’s waist-long hair had him longing to be hunkered down behind a makeshift barrier taking fire from an unseen enemy. Taliban ambush in the wilds of Afghanistan? Bring it on. Fixing a little girl’s hair? No, sir-ee.
A muffled “shit” followed closely by a bark from Sprocket derailed his thoughttrain.
“Looks like Denise isawake.”
Kimber giggled behind her hand and he winked at the little girl. Taking the pan from the stove, he divided the eggs between the two plates. He set the pan on the stove and popped bread into thetoaster.
“Kaden! Kimber! Wake up, guys. We’re late.” Denise rushed out of her room and across the small living room, dining room combo, pulling her hair up into a messy bun on herhead.
Long hair was absolutely her territory. No one said anything as she went down the short hallway. Kimber giggled quietly and Kaden smiled before taking a bite of eggs. It was like they were all part of an inside joke, none of them willing to be the first one to call attention to themselves in the kitchen. Inexplicable warmth spread through Chris’schest.
Shit. He had no business feeling this comfortable with thesekids.
“Kaden? Kimber? Where—?” She stopped in the living room, hands her hips, having finally spottedthem.
Kaden laughed and Kimber giggled again. Denise smiled, thankfully. “What are you guys doing?” sheasked.
“Eating breakfast, silly,” Kimbersaid.
“I see that. Did you guys make that or did Mr. Chris make it for you?” Her eyebrows rose inquestion.
Shit. He might have made a huge error in judgment. He looked at it from Denise’s point of view and realized he should have woken her up as soon as Kaden went to get Kimber. He’d only been trying to do something nice for Denise by letting her sleep a few more minutes, but now he thought she might look at it as him trying to manipulate thekids.
Fuck.
“Mr. Chris made eggs,” Kaden said. “We were going to wake you up to do Kimber’s hair. He looked a little freaked out when she asked if he was going to do it forher.”
“He did, huh?” She joined them in the kitchen. “Don’t suppose he made coffee too, didhe?”
He couldn’t tell if she was pissed that he’d overstepped his bounds. “No, unfortunately I haven’t gotten around tothat.”
