Slash glanced over before dipping the bread in the whisked eggs. To ensure all the toast would get cooked at the same time, she piled up the egg-soaked bread in a different bowl.
“I loaned you five thousand last month,” Elsa said, “on top of many other thousands before that. You’ve never once even mentioned paying me back.”
“I thought they were gifts,” Jazz whined.
Gimme a break.
Carrera’s ran his hand down Slash’s back, stopping just above her ass. Jolts of excitement fluttered through her, but she reached behind and removed his hand. “Nice try.”
He held up a strawberry. “These are good. Very moist. Sweet too. Reminds me of something…” He flashed a smile, then held the fruit in front of her mouth.
As she stared into his eyes, the air crackled with energy. Shewantedhim to place that piece of fruit in her mouth, butwouldn’t that be sending the wrong message? And what the hell happened to hating him?
She plucked it from his fingers, slid it slowly into her mouth.
“Mmm,” he murmured.
Jazz flicked her gaze in his direction. “Carrera, I’m broke. Maybe you could hire me back?”
Slash set a few pats of butter on the heated griddle and watched it melt into little yellow puddles. In went the soaked bread. She pulled a different pan, set it on the stovetop, and turned on the burner.
“Your position’s filled,” Carrera said matter-of-factly.
This time, Jazz slammed both fists on the table and shoved out of the chair so hard it crashed against the wall. “If Mom were here, she would give me money! You guys are so selfish!”
As if that immature outburst hadn’t just happened, G-ma said, “Are you staying for breakfast, Jasmine?”
“No, I have to return two pairs of designer shoes and a new outfit. I have a party to go to today andnothingto wear!” She stormed out of the kitchen. Seconds later, the front door slammed shut.
Silence.
Blessed silence.
Carrera placed the bowl of cut strawberries on the table. “How ‘bout a strawberry, G-ma?”
He pulled three forks and three knives from the drawer, along with three dinner plates. After scooping a few pieces of fruit onto her plate, he returned to pour himself coffee.
Elsa sat there like a statue, just staring out the kitchen window.
Slash’s heart broke for her.
“You okay, Elsa?” Slash asked before placing the Canadian bacon on the heated pan to warm.
“I’m fine,” Elsa replied, but she wasn’t fine.
Her voice was tight. Any time there was family tension or drama, it always saddened her.
Angst crept into Slash’s soul.
Truth was, Slash had played a part in this horrific family tragedy. The sex high that had carried her over on a magic carpet fell crashing back to earth.
But… Slash had nothing to do with Jazz’s inability to save or with her incessant spending. Even so, there were many times when Slash wondered how the Santini family would have turned out if her dad had never gone to her travel soccer game.
She pulled the French toast off the griddle, the Canadian bacon from the pan. After filling two serving plates, she set them on the table, then fetched the maple syrup, and the pot of coffee for Elsa.
After topping off Elsa’s mug, she was surprised to see that Carrera had poured her a mug of coffee.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she said to him.
