13. Kayla
He’s not supposed to fight back. When I do annoying shit to them, all my other bodyguards have just taken it. They have gritted their teeth and endured it in stoic silence until they can’t take it anymore and finally quit. But Jace retaliates. He is not at all intimidated by my power and station as the Ashford heir. And I’m not sure how to feel about that.
Running a brush through my hair, I untangle the mess that it turned into when I slept. Morning sunlight filters in through the windows of my bedroom and illuminates the pale walls. From the other side of my closed door, I can hear Jace bustling around in the kitchen. Which is odd, since he normally always eats breakfast before I even get out of bed.
I glance towards the closed door with suspicious eyes. Is he planning something?
But after my little strip tease two days ago, and his revenge with the snake, I haven’t pulled anymore pranks or done anything to mess with him, so there should be no reason for him to plan something in return. Maybe he just decided to eat a little later than normal today?
As I return my gaze to the mirror and the red strands I’m untangling, my mind drifts back to that evening two days ago when I walked out of the shower to find a damn snake on my bed. I didn’t see that coming. At all.
A shudder rolls down my spine at the memory of that terrifying beast slithering around on my bed. Ugh. I fucking hate snakes.
And even though I wanted to kill Jace for putting me through that absolute horror, I can’t help but be a little impressed. I’ve done a lot of shit to my bodyguards, so I have quite the repertoire to compare it to, and I have to say that the stunt with the snake was a nice move. Not only did he tie it back to my comment about the snake in his pants that morning, he also accurately deducted that I’m terribly afraid of those slithering animals. And not only that. He also managed to actually procure a snake.
I made that snake comment in the morning, and come nightfall, he had managed to put one on my bed without leaving my side for even one second. As a master of pulling shit on people, I have to say that that move was impressive as hell. Not that I would ever admit that to him, though.
Setting down my brush, I pull my hair up in a ponytail and then smooth down my shirt. After one last glance in the mirror, I walk across the room towards my door to find out what it is that Jace is cooking up in the kitchen. Literally or figuratively. Since I have been civil to him for the past two days, there should be no nasty surprise waiting for me when I open the door. But the keyword in that sentence is should. Because with Jace Hunter, you never know.
The scent of food meets me when I stroll into the kitchen. I frown towards where Jace is standing, his back to me, in front of the stove. Something sizzles in the frying pan, and there is a distinct scent of herbs filling the air.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I walk over to where I put my bag yesterday.
It’s already packed, but I still flip through the books to make sure I didn’t forget any of them.
“Making an omelet,” Jace replies without even turning to look at me.
I just shake my head at him and finish checking my bag. Glancing at the clock, I note that I need to leave in about ten minutes. So if Jace plans to eat an omelet, he’s going to have to do it quickly.
While setting my bag down again, I glance towards Jace. He holds the frying pan by the handle and shakes it back and forth a little. Then he uses the pan to flip the omelet like an absolute professional. I blink at him in surprise.
He sets the pan down again and then finally turns towards me. I quickly clear the impressed expression from my features and instead just raise my eyebrows nonchalantly. For a second, I swear I can see amusement tugging at his lips. But then he just raises a hand and points it towards the kitchen table.
“Sit,” he orders.
I start slightly at the effortless command in his voice. Then irritation ripples through me instead, and I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t give me orders. I give you orders.”
A sly smile plays over his lips as he rakes a highly deliberate glance up and down my body before meeting my gaze again. “We both know that I could make you sit in that chair if I wanted to.”
Heat pulses through my core.
“But I’m not,” he continues. “I’m asking politely.”
“No, you’re not. You said, sit. That’s a command. Not a request.”
Amusement sparkles in his eyes. Then he sweeps a hand towards the table again. “Please have a seat.”
Surprise clangs through me, and I’m pretty sure I jerk back a little as I blink at him. I hadn’t expected him to actually… ask politely.
Still a bit stunned, I find myself walking over to the table and pulling out the chair. Jace turns back towards the stove again, but I swear that I can see the edge of a smirk before his back is to me again. It makes me hesitate halfway down to the chair. But in the end, I just blow out a sigh and sit down completely. I have eight minutes before I need to leave, and nothing else to do, so I might as well see where this is going.
Once I’m seated, Jace slides the omelet onto a plate and then grabs some utensils. I watch him through suspicious eyes. He starts walking to the table. But instead of skirting around it to sit down with his plate opposite me, he sets the plate down in front of me. Then he walks around the table and sits down opposite me without his plate. The wooden chair creaks a little underneath his muscular body as he shifts his weight until he’s comfortable.
Completely befuddled, I look between the omelet and his face. He just looks back at me as if this should somehow make sense.
When no other explanation is forthcoming, I at last nod down at the plate and ask, “What’s this?”
“It’s called breakfast.” Leaning back in his seat, he flashes me a brilliant grin that somehow makes my heart flutter. “It’s a meal that people eat after they wake up. You see, the word breakfast comes from breakfast. Since you’ve been fasting while you’ve been sleeping and now you’re breaking that fast with a meal.”
“Yes, I know what breakfast is. But what is it doing in front of me?”
“You only drink coffee before you go to class in the morning.”
“So?”
“Caffeine is not a food.”
“The coffee bean comes from a plant. Which means that coffee is basically a salad.”
He gives me an incredulous look. “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that.”
Rolling my eyes, I throw out my arms. “What’s wrong with drinking coffee?”
“Nothing. But you need to eat some actual food too. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“Wow, thank you, Mr. Public Service Announcement.”
“Just eat.” He stabs a hand towards the omelet and gives me a look dripping with authority.
For a few seconds, we just stare at each other from across the table. A silent battle of wills. But I know that refusing to eat just makes me petty and childish, so in the end, I blow out a long breath in annoyance and shake my head at Jace while picking up my knife and fork.
A victorious smirk spreads across his lips.
I give him an irritated grimace and start cutting into the omelet with more force than necessary. He just watches me with that damn smirk on his stupidly handsome face.
Stabbing the piece of omelet I cut off, I shove it into my mouth.
I’m just about to shoot Jace an indifferent look when I stop short.
Different tastes blend and mix and enhance that single bite of omelet in a way that makes me feel all warm inside. I start in surprise. And then cut off another piece of omelet, because this has to be some kind of mistake.
But when I eat that second bite, the feeling is even stronger. There’s cheese and some kind of thin salty ham and garlic-seared mushrooms and fresh herbs, and it’s all warm and buttery from the pan. I quickly cut another bite and put it in my mouth.
A moan escapes my throat, and my eyes flutter as I savor that incredible taste.
Then I suddenly remember that I’m not alone at the table, and I snap my gaze back up to Jace.
He has his head cocked and he is watching me with an expression that I can’t quite read. That smug smirk from earlier is gone, and instead, there’s a soft smile on his mouth. It does strange things to my heart.
“You made this?” I ask while both confusion and amazement swirl inside me.
It’s a really stupid question, I know that. I literally saw him making the omelet when I walked out of my bedroom. But I still need to ask because… well, because I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that someone like Jace can make food like this.
He lifts his broad shoulders in a casual shrug. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I like food.”
“Yeah, I mean…” I trail off for a few seconds, trying to figure out what it is that I’m even asking. “I mean, why did you make it for me?”
Another casual shrug. “Like I said, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
For a few moments, we just watch each other from across the table. Jace is leaning back in his chair, his hands nonchalantly resting in his pockets, and a faint smile on his mouth. He’s the picture of casualness. But there is a glittering sparkle in his eyes now. And it makes my heart skip a beat.
Tearing my gaze from his, I continue eating and savoring the taste with each bite.
Jace just watches me in silence, but that sparkle remains in his eyes. As does the faint smile on his lips.
Once I’ve finished every single crumb, short of actually licking the plate, I look up and meet his eyes head on again.
“This was…” I begin, searching for the right word. “Delicious.”
His lips quirk up in a smirk. “I know.”
I give him a flat look. “You’re supposed to say, thank you.”
“No, you are supposed to say thank you.”
Heat floods my cheeks. Because he’s right, of course. He made breakfast for me and I haven’t even said thank you yet. But I’m not used to people doing thoughtful things for me like this. I’m rich and powerful enough that I’m usually the one who is asked to do kind things for others. And something as simple, and yet as extraordinary, as randomly making breakfast for me is not something anyone has ever done before.
Clearing my throat, I manage to press out a bit awkwardly, “Thank you.”
As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I realize just how rarely I say those particular words. At least in these kinds of circumstances. They sound almost strange on my tongue.
Across the table, Jace’s smile turns into a full-blown smirk.
I immediately regret thanking him, even though the food was incredible.
I’m not supposed to thank him. Or enjoy the food he makes. Or feel any sort of gratitude towards him at all. I’m not supposed to like him. I’m supposed to get him the hell out of here so that I can finally live my life without a bodyguard looming over me every step of the way. I need to remember my mission. Make this job so unbearable that he quits.
“Aww, look at that,” Jace says, with a grin on his face. “I’m growing on you.”
I give him a flat look. “Yes, like fungus.”
He chuckles and simply gets to his feet before reaching over to grab my now empty plate. I scowl at his back as he walks over to the dishwasher and puts the plate and utensils into it. Why didn’t he take the bait?
In fact, why is it so bloody difficult to faze him? My rudeness and insults and annoying stunts never seem to hit the way they normally do. Jace just takes it all in stride. Always shrugging casually and smiling while that unshakable confidence pulses from his entire soul.
But I refuse to give up. I will make him quit. No matter what.