He went inside to get ready for the day. As he stood in the shower, letting the heat permeate his bad knee, he came to terms with the harsh truth.
Katrina hadn’t shown interest in any romantic connection since Hardeep had died. He hadn’t believed that would last forever. He didn’t want it to last forever, if it would make her happier to seek someone out. He’d have to follow her and her prospective date around, watch them fall in love.
What was the other option? Quitting?
He scrubbed his face. Nope.
Chapter Four
KATRINA WAS INan upbeat mood when she entered her kitchen, purring black-and-white cat in her arms. The sun streamed in through the huge east-facing windows, bouncing off the sparkling stainless steel appliances.
Morning people had once annoyed her, until she’d become one. She woke around fiveA.M. now and got so much done before the rest of the household started to stir. There might be some variation in her schedule during the day, but she preferred her start and end to stay the same. Routine comforted her.
She placed Zeus on the kitchen tile and gave her a good rub. The feline twined around her ankles as she filled her water bowl with clean, distilled water and served the food she made specially for her. “Spoiled,” she cooed at her love, and stroked the black spot on Zeus’s forehead.
Once her baby was taken care of, Katrina grabbed her wireless headphones and placed them over her ears. “Sienna, play Prince’sLove Symbol,” she said aloud, and the black cylinder on the counter lit up red. Her hips swayed as the music poured through the headphones. She danced herway to the counter where her other baby sat. She opened the lid of the glass jar and inhaled the yeasty aroma that greeted her.
Her mom had loved to cook. Katrina retained a couple of memories of key comfort dishes, like tom yum goong and mac and cheese... and sourdough bread. Using this exact starter.
It had been the one thing she’d been able to take with her when she’d gone to live with her father, just a few ounces of it. It was a miracle in Katrina’s mind: all you needed was a small amount of the white stuff, and it would grow like magic once it was fed. It had been surprisingly easy to travel with over the years. Katrina added flour and water to the jar in the appropriate quantities, as she did every morning, and placed the starter back in its spot.
It took no time at all to whip up enough waffles for Gerald and Jas. She arranged the heaping plates on a tray with butter and syrup and glanced at her watch. She pulled her headphones off one ear as Gerald silently appeared in the doorway. Her small crew knew how much she hated to be startled or sneaked up on, so they adhered to her strict schedule or stomped loudly when around her. Even Zeus had a bell around her neck.
Her housekeeper was dressed casually, in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, with his silver hair combed neatly over his bald spot. He wore a suit every day when Hardeep was alive, but he’d relaxed significantly since her late husband’s death, even going so far as to tell her what foods he preferred for breakfast.
Her queries to Jas about the foods he loved had been met with shrugs and assurances that he liked everything she made. The fact that he always cleaned his plate was her only sign that he was telling the truth.
“Good morning, madam,” Gerald intoned. His British accent was softened from years of living in the U.S. He kept his gaze pointedly on hers, which was standard for him. She wore a robe today in deference to the cooling temperature, but usually she was in short shorts and a tank. One of the small pleasures of pleasing only herself was that she could wear whatever she wanted in her own house. Almost ten years since she’d left life under her father’s thumb, and she was still savoring the taste of freedom.
She liked clothes that revealed some skin, because she loved every inch of the body she’d finally been allowed to care for and nourish how she saw fit. She’d even come to love the faint scar on her face, though she’d received it traumatically. It washers.
“Good morning, Gerald.” She handed him the tray and he inclined his head.
“Thank you.” A man of few words, he left with his and Jas’s breakfast.
She went on to the next round of meals, cracking eggs, folding them into the batter, and warming the maple syrup. Her mood swung ever upward as the music lifted her and she created a meal for her friends. She found joy in cooking for people who were loudly appreciative of her efforts. Providing sustenance for others was her love language.
Katrina pulled her headphones off when she heard theloud sound of footsteps. Rhiannon. She’d known her best friend and part-time roommate for going on a dozen years. The other woman got her in a way few people did.
Except Jas. He got her real well.
Okay. No more thinking about Jas for the rest of the morning, that’s the rule. It was his day off, so it was her brain’s day off from him, too. “Morning,” she called out to Rhiannon, when her friend entered the kitchen.
Rhiannon yawned loudly. “Good morning.”
“Is Samson joining us for breakfast?” She critically surveyed the amount of food she’d prepared and considered increasing it. Samson may not be a football player anymore, but he ate like one.
“Nah, he left to go back to L.A. He’ll be scarce while I’m gone, he has some work to do with his foundation.” Rhiannon pulled her sweatshirt together and zipped it up.
After so many years, Katrina was well versed in what Rhiannon’s clothes meant, though her ever-changing wardrobe of hoodies and jeans might look the same to anyone else. The blue hoodie was her power sweatshirt, but it was also one of her more loose ones. Her travel power sweatshirt. “Ready for your trip?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I loved India when I was there.” She’d traveled quite a bit in her youth. It hadn’t always been enjoyable or anxiety-free, and she was in no hurry to hop on to a transatlantic flight anytime soon—or ever—but there had been a few trips she was glad she’d taken.
Rhiannon went to the cupboard where the plates werestored. Katrina was aware she was biased, but she thought Rhiannon Hunter was surely one of the most beautiful women in the world, with her high cheekbones, glowing dark-brown skin, and big black eyes. She’d cut her hair recently, and the curls brushed her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face perfectly. “I’m kinda nervous.”
That was a big admission for Rhiannon, who prided herself on being tough. “There’s no need to be nervous. We are prepared for this.”
