Bay of Sighs (The Guardians Trilogy 2)
Page 11
“Why do women always cover their top half, and men don’t always?”
“Because we don’t have . . . and you have.”
“The breasts,” she said as she stepped out of the pool, wrapped the towel around herself. “Sometimes the maids wear shells over the breasts. But this is for fashion.”
He risked a glance, relieved she’d covered everything. “Mermaid fashion?”
“Yes. We like adornments, too. I made coffee.”
“Yeah, good. Thanks.” He picked it up from the table, took a sip. She’d made it strong enough to fight the champ, but he had no problem with that. “If you’re going to swim, you really need to wear a suit and keep your legs on.”
“I apology.”
“No. No, don’t be sorry.” He risked another look. Now she stood in the dress, long hair wet and sleek as a seal. “It’s amazing. It’s beautiful. It must feel weird for you to swim without it.”
“I like the legs.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty great. Once we score a boat, we should be able to go out far enough, or you deep enough to tail it out when you want. But in the pool, broad daylight, it’s better if you don’t.”
“For a few moments it was just morning, with the little pool of water in the sun, and the smell of the trees.”
“One day it will be just morning.”
She looked at him then, into his eyes. “You believe?”
“Yeah. I believe.”
“Then I can’t be sad. I’ll help you fix the breakfast, and I can set the table. What will you make?”
“The way we’re supplied right now? Pretty much anything. What do you want?”
“I can pick?”
“Sure.”
“Can you make—it’s not the pancakes because you . . .” She made a rolling motion with her fingers. “And put something delicious inside.”
“Crepes.”
“Yes! Can you make those?”
“You got it.”
She liked working in the kitchen. So many smells and colors and tastes. Sawyer said they’d make eggs and bacon, too, and the crepes would have peaches in them and honey over them so they’d be sweet.
She helped him mix, and he showed her how to make the crepe, let her try one all by herself. As she did, Sasha came in.
“Good timing. Everyone’s stirring around. God, it smells good in here.”
“I’m making a crepe.”
“Fancy.” Sasha walked over, put an arm around Annika’s waist, watched a moment. “And you’re doing a good job of it.”
Sasha reached for a coffee cup. “Should I set the table?”
“The table! I forgot to get the flowers. We need the plates and the glasses and the napkins, and—”
“Why don’t I take out the plates,” Sasha said.