Slow Burn(17)

    He grinned at me, probably the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face. “We’ll see.”

    “You will see. You’re never going to forget this.”

    “Anything I can do to help?”

    I shook my head. “I’ve got it under control.”

    He lounged up against the wall next to the refrigerator in his usual spot. Man. He was really an expert at lounging. I tore my gaze away from him. Why did he have to be so beautiful, anyway?

    I chopped onions, trying to put any thought of his relative attractiveness out of my head.

    “So, what made you decide to cook breakfast?” he asked.

    I transferred the onions into the skillet with the hash browns. “No reason.”

    “Uh huh.”

    He didn’t trust me, did he? “Go amuse yourself. I’m cooking here.”

    Within twenty minutes, I was finished. I arranged our plates—a generous helping of eggs and hash browns for each of us and four pieces of bacon each. I carried them into the living room and handed one plate to him.

    I set my plate down on my coffee table and went back to the kitchen for forks. When I brought them back, he was already eating bacon, holding a slice in his fingers.

    “I brought you a fork,” I said, handing it to him.

    “I can’t eat bacon with a fork,” he said. “It crumbles when you try to spear it.”

    Maybe he was right. I settled down in a chair and picked up my plate.

    Griffin dug into the plate of food right away.

    I watched him eat, smiling. There was something kind of satisfying about cooking food for someone. I hadn’t made Big Breakfast for anyone except Eric. He’d been a vegetarian, though. No bacon, which was really a tragedy, if you asked me.

    I had to admit, Griffin was eating with a gusto I’d never seen before.

    “You like it?” I asked.

    He nodded, mouth full. He swallowed. “It’s all right.”

    “All right? You’re eating like it’s going out of style.”

    “I always eat fast,” he said. “If you didn’t in prison, the other guys would assume you didn’t want your food and take it.”

    I made a face. I kept forgetting everything he’d been through.

    He misinterpreted my face. “I’m teasing, doll. It’s delicious. But I do eat fast.”

    Maybe he did. I hadn’t watched him eat all that often. I’d been ordering take out and nibbling while I did my reading for class. I had noted that we never seemed to have leftovers.

    “You do like it?”

    “Yes,” he said.

    “So, you’re in a good mood?”

    He set down his fork on his plate. “I knew you had some ulterior motive for making this for me.”

    “No, it’s not like that,” I said. “Not exactly.”

    “So, what’s it like?”

    “I was just thinking that I might throw a little party tonight.”

    He set down the plate. “Party? Tonight? No way.”

    “Not a crazy, raging party,” I said. “A civilized party. I’m only inviting people I know from class. None of my friends from town. There will be wine and beer. No drugs.”

    He sighed. “You just don’t get it. Your life is in danger—”

    “No, I do,” I said. “I get it. That’s why this is different. For one thing, it’s here, in this apartment, and you can keep your eye on everyone who comes through the door. No surprises. And for another, it will be totally chill. It’s a celebration of me changing my ways and becoming a good girl.”

    He groaned. “I’m sorry, doll. You can’t do it.”

    “But I’ve already invited everyone.”

    “Then call them and tell them it’s off.”

    “I’m not doing that,” I said. I took a big bite of hash browns and chewed.

    “You have to.”

    I kept chewing.

    “I’m not budging on this,” he said.

    I swallowed. “Jesus, Griffin, don’t you ever have any fun? I mean, like a normal person?”