Read Windstar for Free Online Page B

the grits and eggs.
    “Egads,” he groaned.
    “Next, you smear the Mayhaw jelly ….”
    “The whathaw jelly?” he countered as she uncapped the small jar she’d taken from her bag.
    “Mayhaw,” she replied. “It grows in bogs down south.”
    “So does Swamp Thing,” he said. “I’m not eating that! I might turn green or some other vile color.”
    “Stop being a baby.” She extended a piece of the pale melon-colored jelly toward him. “Here, try it.”
    He gave the concoction a pained look then opened his mouth obediently and took a bite of the toast. His eyebrows shot up. He chewed silently for a second then he grinned broadly.
    “Now that is good Mayhaw jelly,” he pronounced.
    He dove into the grits-eggs-sausage mixture with gusto, shoveling it into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days, rolling his eyes at the taste, reaching out to bang his empty coffee cup on the counter, enjoying his meal too much to carry on his usual teasing. Before he’d finished, he’d consumed the entire small jar of jelly.
    “I’ll have to call my friend in Georgia and have her send me up some more,” she said when he asked if she had another jar.
    “A case of it,” he stated emphatically. “No, make that two cases.”
    She shook her head at him. It was a good thing the man had a personal trainer and worked out three times a week to work off all the food he managed to down in a day’s time.
    “So,” she asked as she began clearing away their breakfast dishes, “did you sleep well last night?”
    “No, as a matter of fact I didn’t,” he said. He stared at her with a curious expression on his handsome face. “I dreamed about stuff all night. How ‘bout you? Did you sleep good?”
    Angela didn’t want to ask what kind of stuff he’d dreamed about for she was afraid he’d tell her. “Not really.” She shrugged. “Guess I was just nervous about my new job.”
    He straightened up. “By the way, where are your things?”
    “Down in the lobby,” she said. “I didn’t want to wake you up dragging them in.”
    “We’ll go get ‘em, then,” he said. “I’ll help you unpack so I can go through your unmentionables and sniff ‘em.”
    She groaned.
    “Well, I like sniffing women’s unmentionables,” he said. “They stuff them into their drawers with sachets and all that.”
    “I don’t,” she said. “Mine smell like fabric softener.”
    “Humpf,” he said. “We’ll have to work on that, wench. How can I rummage through your drawers when you’re out and all I get is a whiff of Downey for me effort? Where’s the fun in that?”
    “You stay out of my drawers,” she said then groaned again as she realized she’d given him an opening he was sure to pounce on.
    And he did.
    “There are millions of women who’d love to have me in their drawers,” he said. He puffed out his chest. “Believe me when I tell you that you should have seen the front of me whilst you were ogling me bare rump. What’s in front is a lot more ….”
    “Stop it before I take this cast iron frying pan and smack you in the head with it,” she warned, hefting the heavy skillet.
    He grinned devilishly and wagged his brows at her. “Which head?”
    * * * *
    The rest of the morning he’d helped her settle in and when she asked what his other plans for the day were, he told her he had scripts he needed to look through.
    “Boring shit for the most part,” he explained. “But my agent is insisting.” He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Would you like to read them, too, and give me your opinion?”
    She glanced around the loft. It needed a thorough cleaning although everything was neat and tidy. She had already come to the conclusion that there were certain areas in his life that were important to him. He liked order. He liked to talk, and laugh, and he intended she take all her meals with him. She suspected he didn’t like eating alone.
    “That can wait until tomorrow,” he said as though reading her mind.