Page 22 of Wilde Flame

I drew my head back and scoffed. “I don’t hate life.”

With a disbelieving huff, she turned back to the bacon.

“Excuse me? I do not hate life, Lilibeth.”

“Gosh, you sure do have a funny way of showing it then.”

“You don’t know anything about me or my life. You have no fucking idea what I’ve been through.”

Her face softened. “You’re right. I don’t.”

She turned back to the pan and removed the bacon. “I was going to make scrambled eggs. Would you like some?”

I was torn between staying and walking out and leaving her ass sitting here in my kitchen to eat alone. I ended up letting my hunger decide.

“Do you need help?”

“Can you make some toast?”

“Wheat or rye bread?”

She looked up in thought. “Rye sounds yummy.”

After taking another drink of my coffee, I walked into the pantry and grabbed the rye bread my grandmother had just made and given me yesterday.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” she asked, as she cracked the eggs into a bowl. She really had made herself at home. She would have had to go through all my cabinets to find that particular bowl.

I paused putting the bread in the toaster. “Do I want to talk about anything?”

“Yeah. Talk. Or would you prefer to just be silent?”

Laughing, I asked, “Do you have a problem with silence?”

With a half shrug, she replied, “I live alone, so most of my days when I’m not at work are filled with quiet. That’s why I loved volunteering with the camps this past summer.”

My younger sister Emeline ran a few summer camps for kids who couldn’t afford the more expensive ones, and for those at the local orphanage in River Falls.

“And since you also live alone, I didn’t know if you preferred conversation or quiet.”

“I prefer quiet.”

She softly sighed before pouring the eggs into the pan. I drank my coffee as I waited for the toast to finish, watching Lilibeth cook. I ignored how much I enjoyed seeing her move about my kitchen, and the fact that she had invaded my laundry room and was wearing a pair of my sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt with the ranch logo. She looked fucking adorable.

The toast popped up, and I grabbed two plates and set them on the island.

“Butter and jelly?” I asked, opening the fridge.

“What kind of jelly?”

I looked at what I had. “I’ve got strawberry preserves that my mother made, or grape from the grocery store.”

She smiled. “The preserves, of course! I love anything homemade.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

I buttered the toast while she put bacon and eggs on our plates.

“Your house is gorgeous, Caden. Did you have it built?”