Normal. Everything was back to normal. The kiss had inspired a bit of temporary insanity, but it was over now.
Totally over.
The next month was going to be just fine.
Chapter Three
Samantha cranked up the radio and ladled some more pancake batter onto the griddle, singing the octave above Blake Shelton as she got in touch with her hillbilly bone. Poppy barked along in no particular key.
Jace’s kitchen was so big she actually had to take steps to the fridge to get more milk for her batter. In her old apartment she’d just kind of stretched to get everything. This was heaven.
When her bakery started getting featured on the Travel Channel and Food Network, ’cuz hell yeah it would, then she’d get rich and famous and buy a house with a huge kitchen. Testing recipes would be way more fun in here.
She started to do a little dance, using the batter-covered ladle as a microphone and giving an on cue “Yeehaw” as the song commanded.
“Samantha, what the f?—”
Then she flung her arms wide, a motion started because of the music and made bigger by the very stern sound of Jace’s voice, and came up against something solid, thepancake batter making a wet splat as it came into contact with its target.
She turned, her eyes wide and level with Jace’s throat. And the spray of raw batter that started between his pecs and spread out like a gooey star.
She snorted a laugh and quickly took a step back, clapping her hands, one of which was still holding the ladle, over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said through her fingers.
Little clumps of uncooked pancake tangled in his dark chest hair, which got her noticing the chest hair. Which got her following the thin line of it that ran down the center of his abs and to his very low jeans and...oh my.
She looked back up into very dark, very angry eyes.
“Good morning,” she said, her smile wide. “I made breakfast.Dammit!” She turned and scurried back to the griddle and flipped the pancakes. They were only a little dark. Some syrup and whipped cream would cover that right up. “It’s okay. The pancakes are fine.”
“What the hell are you doing, Sam?”
“Cooking. For you, silly. Before you go out riding the range.”
“I’m castrating calves today.”
“Well...you know. Before you go cut off animal balls. I hear that really works up a sweat. Also, these are kind of a theme breakfast. They’re round like...yeah, well, that’s not appetizing.”
Jace pulled a hand towel off the oven door handle and wiped it over his bare chest. She cocked her head to the side and watched intently, unable to help herself. It was like some kind of weird breakfast porn. And it was kind of fascinating.
Jace walked over to the radio and turned itoff.
“Country music hour is sacred in the morning,” she said.
“My sanity is sacred all the time. And I reserve the right to not be assaulted by breakfast.”
“Who hasn’t had a slight pancake mishap?”
He looked down at his chest. “Everyone?”
“Eh.” She waved her hand. “Charming foibles aside, I’ve made you breakfast.”
“Your foibles are possibly less charming than you think.”
She shook her head. “Nah. I’m quirky. It’s adorable.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“Breakfast!”
