Right Imperfections |✔ [Book 1 of Runaway Bride Series]

6. A Begonia Date

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McKenna

Next morning came like a sweet relief.
I walked out of my room expecting to find the house quiet and lonely with Dan's boisterous snores echoing in the corridor. I strolled down the corridor toward the end to see if his door was shut only to be surprised to find it ajar with no sign of Dan.

I walked back to the stairs and descended and Sinatra's Witchcraft floated up to me as I neared the lower ground.

What I didn't expect to find on this strange morning in a strange place was Dan in the kitchen in front of his modular stove tossing bacon and humming to the tune echoing in the living room like he knew them by heart.

I wanted to stand there and watch him, enjoy his tryst in a warm, cozy albeit too modern kitchen but it seemed to intimate so I cracked my fingers to step into my tormentor shoes.

"Well, wench, feed me." I wailed with an exaggerated Southern drawl.

He stopped and turned around, narrowing his eyes to thin slits, looking me up and down.

"Well, good morning to you, too Princess. Were there any unpleasant peas in the bedding that kept you awake all night tossing and turning? Or was it just the thought of me?" He winked, "you look awfully ugly this morning." He turned away from me with a stinging retort.

Looks like we are back on track then, Dîck. I slipped onto the barstool and pulled the sleeves over my hands cocooning them under me to rest my chin on it.

"Nope. Slept like a log. I just didn't want to fix my hair this morning considering there isn't a man in the house. Wouldn't wanna waste a hot, smoking McKenna, you know?"

"Well, I'm slowly starting to understand your inclination to fantasy land, Princess. I'm sure hot, smoky McKenna - whoever that is - exists only in that."

Well, someone was too high up in the sky this morning.

"Bacon, eggs and waffles sound good?" He asked, his back to me and his mind already off our banter.

"Yup." I answered with a nod and tapped my fingers on the sides of the barstool.

"You can always pick the music if you'd like." He offered twisting in my direction with a spatula pointing toward the living area.
The sight was so domestic and endearing that I nearly leapt over the counter just to grab his face and smack a hearty kiss on his cheek.

He even had those sorta manly looking black apron wrapped around his waist.

I declined his offer with a shake. This was nice. Cozy mornings with no deadlines and lawsuits hanging over my neck like a sword.

"Do you do this every morning?"

"What? Cooking?"

"Yeah that, the music at the strike of dawn and the dancing like Madonna?"

He barked a laugh and snorted, "Madonna?"

"Yeah, diva shit." I smiled ruefully at him, surprised by his mild reaction considering everything between us went from zero to hundred faster than a Ferrari.

"At home, cooking is really not on my agenda cause of work so Hilda - my housekeeper - is a great help. And for the Madonna thing, no, this is limited to the cream crowd - close ones. Count yourself lucky."

"Puh-lease. I'd rather not see that every morning. One traumatic memory is good enough."

"Smart ass." He coughed and then plated our breakfast.