Wild and Free(17)
It was a sadistic maneuver for that jerk to bring her here.
She’d figured that out too.
Because Gregor, for some demented reason, had systematically removed every hint of her mother and father and the life she had with them. Except her stuffed wolf and the Christmas decorations, but only because she’d thrown an almighty, six-year-old fit.
He’d obviously gotten rid of the cabin too and didn’t have the courage to tell her he’d sold it.
After she got away from Callum, she was finally going to demand some answers from Gregor. Then she was going to tell his son Yuri once and for all that she was not going to sleep with him and definitely not going to marry him. Last, she was never speaking to another man again until the day… she… died!
Except, of course, Gregor, after she forgave him because, even though he was remote, she still loved him. And Yuri, after she forgave him too, because, even though she knew he thought differently, she’d always thought of him kind of like a brother and she loved him too.
She put on a pair of fawn colored low rider cords which she was not going to think were cute (even though they were). She added a brown leather belt with daisies stamped into the leather which was something else that she determined was not cute (even though it was). Then she donned a bright pink, long sleeved henley that had a ribbon with flowers sewn down the buttoned slit at the collar which didn’t fit her like it was made for her, wasn’t surprisingly the perfect color for her and didn’t make her look really good even though she’d never have guessed it (even though it did all that).
She also tugged on a pair of thick socks that were not warm and snugly (even though they were).
She found there were no shoes but she didn’t need shoes.
Yet.
She walked out of the bathroom and grabbed the bags (taking three trips) and carted them back into the big room.
She made the bed (angrily) as she heard Callum chop, chop, chopping outside. Sometimes, she’d hear him stop and approach the house and she’d get tense but he did it only to stack the logs on the back porch because he never came inside.
She found coffee, poured herself a cup and yanked open the refrigerator to find Callum had stocked it only with full-fat milk.
Of course.
He knew her clothing size but he didn’t know she religiously had to drink skim in order to fit in it.
Jerk!
She made breakfast for the both of them and surprisingly she heard the backdoor open the minute she was done.
She heard his boots on the floor as she was busily taking the plates from warming in the oven.
He stopped at the mouth of the u-shaped kitchen.
She didn’t turn. If she did, she might throw something at him.
Or cry.
Or both.
“Sonia?” he called.
“Yep,” she said, flipping the oven closed with her foot and still not looking at him.
“You okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.
Jerk!
“Much better,” she replied, busily loading food on their plates. “Breakfast is ready.”
“I know.”
That got a reaction. She turned to look at him and was reminded of the gargantuan joke the cosmos was playing on her because he was way, way, way too darned handsome.
She buried that thought and asked, “How did you know?”
“Smelled it. Heard it,” he replied and turned while finishing, “I’ll be there after I wash up.”
Since he was turning, he didn’t see her mouth had dropped open.
Okay, she was cooking bacon. You could smell bacon from a mile away.
But he heard it?
How?
She, of course, could hear the final preparations of breakfast.
She watched him disappear into the bathroom as she felt a shiver run up her spine and decided to bury that too.
He couldn’t know of her gifts so he could pretend to have ones as well. Even Gregor and Yuri didn’t know. Sure, she’d often messed up around them. Still, they’d never cottoned on.
She’d found placemats and napkins and, by the time he was done in the bathroom, she was putting his plate on a mat on the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room.
He slid onto the stool and looked down at his plate.
As usual, Sonia stood at the kitchen counter across from him (the last part not as usual, obviously) and ate while contemplating how she was going to get out of this mess.
Would it take a million dollars?
Two?
Three?
What would he accept to give up his game?
“What’s this?” Callum asked, his voice tight in a way that sounded like he was restraining some impulse and, when she looked at him, his face was carefully blank.
“Eggs, bacon and toast,” she answered.
He looked back down at his plate.
Sonia continued eating.
“I recognize the toast,” he commented with forced politeness and she looked up again to see he was holding a piece of toast between a very attractive thumb and forefinger. “Is there butter?”