Look Back at Me (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 1)

Toasts and Tests

They did order their late breakfast, and then had to eat it cold. Rhys' Sage coffee machine had gotten tired of beeping and reminding them that the coffee had been ready hours ago, and Rhys had to turn it on again, because Viola said that no matter how magical the sex was, she was under no circumstances drinking coffee warmed up in a microwave. After a bath and three hours of not watching her cartoons, Rhys announced he was cooking her a late lunch, and she followed him to the kitchen. She was feeling utterly content, the extent of which she only realised when she noticed she was picking at the excellent sourdough bread he'd sliced and was buttering on the island.

"I was going to ask you if you'd eat a bacon toastie, but I see you're in," he said, and gave her a warm look over.

Viola nibbled on a corner of the crust in her hand.

"I can't even remember the last time I had bread," she said, and the confident movements of his hands stuttered. She'd forgotten how jarring her disorder could seem to those who weren't familiar with it. She smiled at him softly. "I think I've eaten more carbs in Fleckney than I've had in the past five years cumulatively." She sent the rest of bread in her mouth and chewed pensively. "Am I remembering it wrong, or this bread is actually unusually spectacular?"

Rhys laughed and pushed another slice towards her. Viola took it and bit into it.

"It is really good bread," he said. "A weird Russian woman baked it for me as a thank-you."

Viola swallowed and gave him a bewildered look.

"What was the thank-you for?"

"I picked her up on the road, walking to the Ferguson farm, with her daughter and her cat in a cardboard box," he announced and made a dramatic wave with his knife. "It was late, and you could hardly see anything through the snowfall. So, I gave them a lift. And two days ago she showed up in town and handed me the loaf. And it's not just you. That's one of the best loafs I've had in my life."

"Was it a black cat with one white ear?" Viola asked, and Rhys looked at her in surprise.

"Yeah. Do you know her?"

"I know where she works." Viola shook her head in disbelief. "And I know she's had a run-in with Klaus. Goodness, that's a very small town," she added and bit another piece of the magnificent Russian bread.

She finished the second slice, and then started on the bacon toastie Rhys had placed in front of her. He made them the American style: with cheese, tomatoes, some leafy greens, and a generous glob of some piquant garlicky sauce. Viola ate it all and then threw a look at the plate of biscuits he'd put in the centre of the island. Rhys chuckled and got up to start the kettle.

Her stomach full of endlessly satisfying comfort food, and her thoughts in lazy anticipation of a nice cuppa - maybe even with a couple of the shortbreads - Viola watched Rhys move near his counter. He was dressed in a soft tee and a pair of black boxer briefs, and Viola ogled his long, muscular thighs, his pert buttocks, and the muscles moving on his back as he stretched to pick up a couple of mugs out of the cabinet.

"I think that's why I wanted to stay over last night," she announced a few minutes later, quite surprised by her own admission. "This. The way you make me feel." He looked up at her over the second half of his second toasty. "When you take care of me, and feed me, and rub my back in the bath, I feel... coddled."

Viola gave out a small, slightly embarrassed laugh.

"Well, you're easy, I reckon," he said and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "If it's just the promise of a good meal and a warm bath that can convince you to stay the night."