Not Pretending Anymore - Page 8
“Yeah.”
“You got eggs and bread and stuff?”
“Yes. Though I think they’re going to expire soon.”
“Cool. I’ll make breakfast for us in the morning—a little inaugural celebration. No strings. You won’t owe me anything.” He winked. “For this one.”
“You’re not gonna hear me complain about someone making breakfast for me. Ever.”
“But I’m warning you, I like to play music when I cook, shake my ass around to the beat. Sing a little. Might use a spatula for a microphone. You okay with a little kitchen karaoke?”
“As long as I’m awake and you’re clothed, go for it.”
He hopped off my bed, spun around like freaking Michael Jackson, and disappeared down the hall.
This is going to be a long six months.
CHAPTER 3
* * *
Molly
The next morning, I woke to the smell of bacon.
After I washed my face and brushed my teeth, I let my nose lead the way to the kitchen. Declan stood at the stove singing Darius Rucker’s “Wagon Wheel.” He had earbuds in, so he didn’t immediately hear me walk out. It gave me a chance to listen to his voice, which was…pretty damn bad. For some reason, that made me smile. A man who looked the way he did and was blessed with so much charisma had to have some flaws. Plus, I liked the fact that he didn’t seem to care that he couldn’t carry a tune.
I walked straight to the coffee pot, opened the cabinet above it, and grabbed a mug. Declan took out one earbud and smiled.
“Morning, roomie. I hope I didn’t wake you with my singing?”
I wasn’t generally a morning person—mostly because I worked the night shift—so I had a hard time falling asleep before two in the morning on my days off. Nevertheless, I felt chipper today.
“You didn’t.” I poured coffee and raised my mug to my lips. “And is that what that sound was? You were singing? I thought maybe someone was strangling a cat.”
Declan squinted. “Are you trying to tell me I don’t have a good voice?”
“I can’t possibly be the first to break that news.”
He smiled like I’d given him a compliment instead of insulting him and nodded his chin toward my mug. “You drink your coffee black. Me too. Told you we were meant to be roommates.”
I chuckled and stepped closer to the stove. Declan had three burners going, including the one that hadn’t worked since I’d moved in. “How did you get the left front burner to turn on?”
“You had a clog. I took it apart and used a toothpick to clean out some dried grease stuck in the burner holes.”
“Oh. Wow. Well, thanks.”
“Glad to be of service. Now why don’t you take a seat? Breakfast is almost ready.”
A few minutes later, Declan placed a perfectly formed omelet, bacon, and hash browns in front of me, along with a glass of orange juice.
“This looks amazing. Because of my schedule, I don’t tend to eat a lot of breakfast. If I’m hungry after I get off work, I usually just grab a yogurt or something. I don’t sleep well on a full stomach. But this is actually my favorite type of meal. I prefer breakfast foods to most dinners. It’s probably the thing I miss most about a normal morning schedule.”
Declan sat down and cut into his omelet. “Why do you have to miss it? Just make breakfast for dinner, before you go to work.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know…because breakfast is morning food.”
“Who says?”
“Umm…everyone?”
“Let me get this straight. Breakfast is your favorite food, but you don’t eat it because traditionally people eat it in the morning and you’re usually sleeping during that time.”
“You’re making it sound silly. But it makes sense.”
He perked a brow. “To whom?”
I laughed. “To me.”
Declan tsked. “Molly, Molly, Molly. Not everything needs to have a specific time or place. It’s a good thing I’m here. You need my help.”
“Oh I do? Exactly what kind of help is it that I need?”
“You need to loosen up a little.”
We’d been joking around until now, but his comment hit a nerve. My last boyfriend had called me uptight on more than one occasion. So I felt a bit defensive. “I don’t think you know me well enough to make that type of judgment. I’ll have you know, I’m not uptight.”
Declan tilted his head. “No?”
“No.”
“Alright, Molly. Whatever you say…”
Now he was just pacifying me. “Don’t say alright, Molly. You’re making me sound rigid. But I’m not. I didn’t say I wouldn’t eat breakfast at night if the opportunity presented itself. It just hasn’t. That’s all.”
“Okay. Sorry if I upset you.”
I’d effectively killed the mood. What had started as a fun morning had now turned into breakfast in silence. By the time we were done eating, I felt like a giant ass.
“That was really delicious. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
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