The last thing I remember is looking at pictures of diadems and crowns, trying to figure out which one would be best for Hera. Did I stumble over to the couch and fall asleep? I frown. It’s not like I haven’t slept on it before, but when I’m that deep into research, I usually fall asleep at my desk.
Yawning, I toss aside the blanket and stand to stretch out the kinks. Maybe I should get a new sofa. After folding and tossing the blanket over the back of the couch, I head to the kitchen to get some coffee. When I walk in, Gatlin’s standing at the stove fixing breakfast. In a brown long-sleeved T-shirt and worn jeans, with his gorgeous white-blond hair falling over his very broad shoulders, he’s a sight to behold this early in the morning.
I open my mouth to say good morning, then close it again. Mr. Grumpy can stew in his own silence. I’ve got too much to do today.
“Breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes,” he says, his voice low. “Did you find what you were searching for last night?”
“Some,” I answer shortly, turning away to get my coffee. The heat warms my hands as I sip on the much-needed caffeine. I take it over to the island and grab a seat.
He sets a plate in front of me, along with silverware and a napkin. “Eat.”
Clenching my teeth at his tone, I dig in and stifle the groan rising in my throat. Damn it. I could get used to someone fixing me food all the time.
“How is it?” he asks, sitting down with his own plate beside me.
“Good,” I reply, refusing to give him an inch.
He carefully sets his fork down beside his plate and turns to me. “I’m sorry. Maybe I’m wrong, but Agos seemed more interested in you than he was in teaching. The safety of my team is important to me. I want to be sure you’re capable of putting down anyone who comes after you.”
My hand tightens on the fork as the thought of stabbing him slowly takes over my brain. Idiot. “I’m not his type.” I flex my fingers to release some of the tension and take another bite.
He snorts. “Why is he flirting with you then?”
“He. Is. A. Friend,” I tell him, slowly enunciating every word so it will permeate his big brain. “That’s it. Like all demons, he’s a little flirtatious, but it doesn’t mean anything.” When he looks skeptical, I roll my eyes. “He has a mate.”
He looks at me in shock. “And she doesn’t care if he teaches you?”
With a slight smirk, I smile up at Gatlin. “Hecouldn’t care less.”
Is it wrong that I’m happy to see him the tiniest bit jealous? Laughter bubbles up, but I tamp it down. Returning to my pancakes, I pour more syrup and take the biggest buttery-sweet bite.
Gatlin clears his throat. “I see. I still think he needs to concentrate more.”
I say nothing until I finish my pancakes, and even then, I refuse to engage in his delusions. “I’m going to the vault to see if I can find something for Hera. Do you need help washing up?”
He shakes his head. “No, I’ve got this. Why don’t you rest for a bit? You were up late last night.”
“I thought you were ignoring me yesterday,” I jibe, unable to resist the taunt. “How do you know how late it was?”
“When I checked on you, it was two a.m., and you were sound asleep at your desk,” he replies, scooping up a big bite of pancakes. He raises an eyebrow when I continue to stand there, mouth agape. “What?”
He must have moved me to the couch. A warm feeling invades the depths of my heart, but all I do is shake my head. “Nothing. I’ll be in the vault.”
This is going to be a good day.
The gold peacockpin embedded with colorful gems is the perfect piece. Feminine. Stunning. Cast in pure gold, it’s worth a small fortune. It took me over an hour to clear the curse from it. A nasty one designed to steal beauty from its wearer. Not something you want to give a Greek Goddess especially notthe Queen. I then added something new to it.
As I near the porch, I hear Gatlin speaking to someone on the phone. “She spent the last three weeks searching for the panels on her own. It took a toll on her. She looked haggard when she came home. Dark circles under her eyes. And she’d lost weight.”
That’s rude.Who is he talking to?
After a pause, he continues, explaining I found and lost a panel, which makes me wince. “Now, she’s spending long hours figuring out this new quest. She could really use some help.”
I slow, wanting to hear more. Is he talking to Jamison? As I turn the corner, I see him sitting on the porch and inhale sharply at the sight. White-blond hair, bright in the sun’s rays, cascades down over his shoulders and below his strong jaw. Damn, he’s beautiful. Well, he would be if his face wasn’t permanently twisted into a frown or a scowl. Rarely do I catch a smile or hear him laugh. Even when he’s amused, his face barely shows it. Why is he so serious?
“I get it. I do,” he replies a minute later. “You’ll have to figure this out for yourself. But I would be asking some tough questions, like whether it really matters after all this time.”
He lifts his head and sniffs the air, then swivels around, his gaze finding me. “I’ve got to go. Don’t text Jamison. He’s at Lady Catherine’s house, visiting his father, and I don’t want the wrong person to intercept his messages.” He pauses. “Take care.”
