Page 91 of A Little Jaded

“Yeah, Stormie. I don’t want to go back to being fake.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

The same smile teases the edge of her mouth until it splits into a full-blown grin. “Neither do I.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

Her stomach grumbles again. I gather her into a hug, spin her around in the bathroom, and grab the backs of her thighs, encouraging her to wrap them around my waist. I carry her into the kitchen, then set her ass on the edge of the granite island. Once she’s steady, I get to work making breakfast because my girl’s hungry.

“Omelet?” I ask.

“If I can help, then yes.”

“Not gonna let you help.”

“Why, because I screwed up the lasagna?” she asks.

“You didn’t?—”

“I did,” she argues.

She’s right. She did. But I bite the inside of my cheek to avoid hurting her feelings with my amusement. “You hungry or not?”

She nods. “Fine. Yes. I’m hungry.”

“Then let me feed you.”

Her lips purse, but she leans back on her hands. “So stubborn.”

The girl has no idea.

Satisfied, I open the fridge and dig for vegetables. “Onions?”

“Yes, please.”

“Bell peppers?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Jalapenos?”

“Yup.”

“Bacon?”

“Oo, yes, please.”

“Sausage?”

She hesitates, and I jerk my head back from the fridge, eyeing her. “Sausage?” I repeat.

“Uh, sure?”

I grab her thigh and squeeze.