Chapter 10 #3
I stopped in the doorway, my bag still hanging from one shoulder, and for some reason, all I could think was that I had left a granola bar sitting uselessly in the bottom of it.
“Good morning,” I said, quieter than I meant to.
Tobias’s gaze moved over me once, quick but thorough, the way it always did, as if he were checking to see if anything had changed.
Then he gestured toward the table.
“I made breakfast.”
I stared at him, then at the table, then back at him.
“You made breakfast,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“With your hands?”
Tobias cocked his head at me, furrowing his brows.
Ben made a sound behind me that was suspiciously close to a laugh, but when I glanced back at him, his expression had rearranged itself into perfect innocence.
“As opposed to what?” Tobias asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, a bit embarrassed. “I just thought maybe you had someone who did that.”
His sleeves were still rolled to his forearms, neat and precise even in their casualness, and there was something strange about seeing him like that. Tobias always looked composed, but usually in a way that made him seem untouchable, in expensive suits and polished designer shoes.
This was different.
Not relaxed, exactly. I wasn’t sure Tobias Kelly knew how to be relaxed.
But human.
Domestic, maybe.
The word settled in my head with an embarrassing amount of warmth.
“I don’t make the time to cook often,” he said, drawing my attention back to him. “But I wanted to today.”
The table wasn’t elaborate in a showy way, but it was thoughtful.
Toast arranged on a plate instead of dumped somewhere, fruit cut into clean pieces, little dishes of butter and jam set out with the same careful spacing he seemed to apply to everything.
There was coffee too, and water, and what looked like some kind of eggs folded with herbs.
It didn’t look like something made by a person who just threw food together because bodies required fuel.
It looked intentional.
“You didn’t have to,” I said, because that was what people said when they were overwhelmed by kindness and didn’t know how to address it.
“I’m aware.”
“Um… Well, thank you,” I murmured.
Ben stepped past me into the kitchen with the ease of someone thoroughly comfortable in this space. “I’ll handle lunch later,” he said. “Unless either of you have a specific request?”
Tobias looked to me expectantly.
“I’m not picky,” I said quickly.
Ben grinned. “That’s exactly what picky eaters say.”
“I’m not,” I insisted, pausing a second to bite my tongue. “Well, I mean… I don’t like mushrooms or carrots, or turkey, or fish. And I don’t like anything too greasy either. Oh, and no Vegemite, please.”
Ben laughed. “Not picky, my ass. But no worries, I won’t make ya choke down any of that.”
Tobias, meanwhile, looked as though he’d just been given very serious information. That, and he quietly pushed a small pot further away from one of the plates.
“Thank you. Both of you…” I muttered shyly.
“It’s not a big deal,” Ben answered, to which Tobias nodded in agreement. “Everyone has preferences. I hate olives, for example.”
Oh, shoot.
“Me too,” I said as my ears flamed, even as a small smile that tugged at my mouth.
“I do not like fried foods,” Tobias added, making my smile just a tad brighter.
Ben’s gaze flicked between us, that knowing amusement returning to his expression. “Right,” he said. “I’ll leave you to breakfast, then. I’ll be around if you need me.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He gave me a grin before leaving the kitchen, his footsteps fading down the hall.
Which left me alone with Tobias.
And breakfast.
Breakfast Tobias had made.
Tobias’s breakfast.
I still couldn’t quite get past that part.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing toward the table.
So I sat.
The chair was ridiculously comfortable, because apparently even kitchen chairs in this house had to feel luxurious. I set my bag carefully beside my feet and tried not to look too obviously overwhelmed as Tobias took the seat across from me.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Outside the glass, the ocean moved endlessly against the cliffs, throwing light across the kitchen until it caught on the rim of Tobias’s glasses.
I picked up my fork.
“This looks really good,” I said.
“I hope it is acceptable.”
I glanced up at him.
There was no teasing in his voice.
He meant it.
And for some reason, that made me really want to enjoy it.
I took a bite before I could think too hard about it. The eggs were warm and soft, the herbs bright enough to cut through the richness, and I made an unfortunately pleased sound before I could stop myself.
Tobias went very still.
I swallowed quickly, barely avoiding choking. “Sorry,” I blurted, mortified. “That was weird.”
“It wasn’t,” Tobias said, although he didn’t meet my eyes.
Ugh, fuck.
“It was a little weird…” I whispered.
“It was informative.”
I stared at him.
He took a measured sip of coffee, then stated, “You like it.”
I laughed then, because I couldn’t help it. “Yeah,” I admitted. “I like it.”
Something about his expression changed. Not much, but just enough for me to notice. It almost looked like… satisfaction? Dare I say happiness?
The kind that looked almost out of place on him because it had nothing to do with power or precision or all the other things he seemed built from.
And it was just because I liked the breakfast he made.
That was… kind of cute.
Not that I was going to say that.
Ever.
Probably.
“I thought we’d review your first notes after breakfast,” Tobias said. “Then you can begin with whatever changes you feel are most urgent.”
“Okay,” I said. “I made a list yesterday.”
“I know.”
I paused, then glanced at him. “You know?”
“You left it on your desk.”
“Oh.” I relaxed slightly. “Right.”
His gaze remained on me for another moment, attentive in that way that made me feel much too seen.
“I didn’t read it,” he added, surprising me.
I didn’t know why, exactly.
Maybe because Tobias seemed like the sort of person who read everything. Every room. Every silence. Every movement.
But he hadn’t read my notes.
He’d left them alone.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
Maybe Ben was right.
Maybe Tobias didn’t offer comfort lightly.
Maybe that was what made it feel so disorienting when he did.
I took another bite, hiding my smile behind my fork.
Maybe the longer I worked here, the more I’d start seeing the parts of Tobias Kelly that didn’t show up in donor profiles or aquarium gossip.
The strange parts.
The stiff parts.
The thoughtful, oddly sweet parts that made breakfast with his own hands.