Chapter 15
Eggs – the perfect way to ruin an awkward morning
Aurora
I stretch as I slowly wake up. I haven’t slept as well as I did last night since—
I cut those thoughts off. I will not be spending my time reminiscing how it feels to have Jett in my bed. Jett naked in my bed. Jett above me. Thrusting into me.
Good job cutting those thoughts off, Aurora. A plus for effort.
Fine, I won’t think about how Jett is as a lover. I’ll think about how sweet he was last night. How he held me while I cried. How he listened to my sad story but didn’t pity me.
Ugh! I slam my fist into the mattress. I’m falling for Jett again.
I’m such an idiot. The man gives me five minutes of attention and boom! I fall for him.
My phone rings. Great. It’s Mike’s ringtone. Welp. There’s one surefire way to get my attention off Jett for a while.
“What do you need?” I ask as I answer the phone. There’s no sense in bothering with pleasantries with Mike. He doesn’t understand them.
“Where are you?”
Sleeping across the hall from Jett. I nearly giggle at how his head would explode if I said those words.
“Why are you asking? I’m not picking up your dry cleaning again. We discussed this.”
He never listens when I speak but I still try.
“I told you to check out of the hotel in Winter Falls.”
Oh no, he didn’t.
“You told me you wouldn’t pay for the hotel room. Whether I check out or not is my decision.” The asshole is unspoken but clear to hear.
“Ah ha! You are in Winter Falls.”
“You caught me. Guilty as charged.”
“Good. I need you to…”
I sit up and put him on speaker so I can take notes on all of the gazillion things he needs me to do. Typical Mike. His temper is quick to rise but it’s also quick to fizzle out.
I hang up the phone and sigh. I would rather spend the next ten hours lying in this comfortable bed but I’ve got work to do.
I throw on some clothes, grab my work bag, and go in search of somewhere to work since the mattress is entirely too soft for me to concentrate when I’m lying on it.
All the doors upstairs are closed so I make my way downstairs. I didn’t get a chance to study the house last night but wow. Holy cow.
The downstairs is an open concept kitchen/living room/dining room with vaulted ceilings, hardwood floors, and tons of light pouring in from the numerous windows.
It’s clearly a bachelor pad, though. If I lived here, I’d add some color with a few pillows and maybe an accent wall. And plants. This place definitely needs plants.
The kitchen, however, is perfect as it is. Especially if it includes the rockstar currently standing there. Without his shirt on.
I nearly falter at the sight of his wide shoulders and lean back muscles covered in tattoos. Tattoos I’ve licked every inch of. My mouth goes dry and I bite my bottom lip as memories assault my body.
“G-g-g-ood morning.” I clear my throat and try again. “Good morning.”
Jett glances over his shoulder at me and grunts. The rockstar drummer is not a morning person.
“Why are you up?”
He rubs a hand over his jaw and his bicep muscles flex with the movement. I never realized drummers had such well-defined bodies before I met Jett. Now I understand why my co-workers want to bag themselves a rocker.
“Phone woke me.”
“Sorry. Mike doesn’t sleep much. And he doesn’t care what time it is when he rings you.”
He grunts again before turning around to pour his coffee. He holds up a mug. “Want one?”
“No caffeine allowed.” I motion toward my belly.
He freezes for a second before apologizing. “Sorry. I can get some decaf.”
I can’t help the laugh from escaping. “You’re going to buy groceries? You?”
“Hey. I know how to buy groceries.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
I set my bag on the dining room table. “Is it okay if I work here?”
“Go ahead. I mostly eat in front of the television anyway.”
My stomach rumbles reminding me a mini-bag of pretzels on an airplane does not constitute a meal.
“Do you want eggs?”
“Eggs? As in raw eggs?”
He grimaces. “Who eats raw eggs?”
“Do you know how to cook eggs?”
“I can scramble eggs.”
“And you have eggs?”
Normally, I ensure the refrigerators of all the members of the band are full when they arrive home from a concert tour but since all but Jett now have partners, I’ve stopped.
He opens the refrigerator and gasps.
“What? What’s wrong? Do I need to phone a cleaner?” I dig my phone out of my bag.
“No cleaner needed. The refrigerator is stocked.” He raises an eyebrow at me.
“Don’t thank me. I was too busy getting railroaded into moving into a house with you last night to worry about filling the refrigerator.”
And crying my eyes out over my parents’ death but I am never discussing how I melted into Jett while sobbing. Never ever.
“The refrigerator fairy strikes again.” He grabs some butter and eggs.
While he cooks, I settle at the table. I set up my laptop, my tablet, and my phone and begin writing a to-do list for the day. I haven’t managed to finish the list when Jett sets a plate down in front of me.
“Order’s up!”
“Thanks,” I murmur before I inhale the scent of eggs. My stomach clenches and gurgles. Uh oh. I slap a hand over my mouth and jump from my chair before sprinting toward the bathroom.
I barely manage to flip the toilet seat up before I’m losing the contents of my stomach. Jett pulls my hair away from my face and gathers it on my neck as he rubs a hand up and down my back.
I finally finish throwing up and lean my head against the toilet. “Ugh.” Jett places a warm wet washcloth on my neck and I moan. “Feels good.”
“Are you done?”
“Good god, I hope so.”
“Do you need a doctor?”
“A doctor? Why would I need a doctor? Throwing up is perfectly normal when you’re pregnant. Not a fun normal but normal nonetheless.”
“You threw up a lot. And you haven’t eaten. Maybe we should go to the doctor anyway. Just to be certain nothing’s wrong.” His words jumble together as his eyes fill with panic.
I grasp his hand and squeeze. “Jett, I promise throwing up is perfectly normal. There’s no need for a doctor.”
He stares at me for a long moment. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
He helps me to stand. “But you need to eat something.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, Mom.”
He escorts me back to the dining room. I halt before I get too close to the smelly eggs. He rushes forward and grabs the dish. He throws the eggs down the garbage disposal.
“How about some toast?” He twirls around the kitchen a few times. “We must have a toaster here somewhere.”
I giggle and point to the toaster next to the stove. “You mean that one?”
He blows out a breath. “There it is. One slice or two slices? Never mind. Two slices.”
He rushes around the kitchen finding bread and jam and making toast while I return to my work.
“Do you want to do a sniff test before the plate gets too close to you?” he asks as he approaches the table.
“Why?” I narrow my eyes on him. “Did you use egg butter?”
He rears back. “Egg butter? What the hell is egg butter?”
“I’m teasing you. Toast and jam is fine.”
He sets the plate in front of me but he doesn’t leave. He stands next to me as if waiting to rush me back to the bathroom for another round of emptying my stomach.
I pat his hand. “I’m fine, Jett. Don’t be a worry wart.”
He scowls. “I’m not a worry wart.”
“Sure, you aren’t.” I shove the toast into my mouth and groan as the strawberry flavor hits my tongue. I didn’t realize I was this hungry. I devour the toast in record time.
Jett doesn’t move from his spot standing guard next to me the entire time. I let him be. I’m too busy making love to this toast to be bothered.
When I finish, he picks up my plate and carries it to the kitchen.
“I’ll run next door. Maybe Leia has decaf coffee.”
I don’t get a chance to protest before he’s hurrying out the back door – still without a shirt. I sigh as I watch him.
This is not good. I don’t know how to resist a sweet and caring Jett. But he’s made himself perfectly clear. He doesn’t want a relationship. And he most certainly doesn’t want a child.
I rub a hand over my stomach. “It’s okay, Little Bean. Everything will be okay.”
Now to convince myself of the same thing.