If Gretchen was going to stay at Xanthus’s house while Sara recovered, she’d better try and make nice with the local giants. She bustled around the spacious kitchen cooking as she went—admiring all the features. There was not one, but two ovens, marble countertops, a double-wide copper fridge—which had been practically empty until her quick trip to the store.
This kitchen had everything a domesticated person could want. Gretchen remembered Sara’s previous apartment, the stained sink, the chipped, laminate countertop, the square footage that allowed you to cook, wash dishes, and eat all in the same place. Sara had to love her new house.
Gretchen lifted the lid of the frying pan. Bacon and sausage sizzled and popped. They were crispy, brown—perfect. The waffle iron beeped as she placed the meat in the oven. Gretchen carefully removed the waffle and placed it on top of the giant pile in the warm oven. Given the size of Xanthus’s friends, she thought she’d better make a lot of food. She didn’t want any of them walking away hungry.
“What is that smell?” a deep voice rumbled. A sandy-haired, brown-eyed man stepped into the kitchen. Six-six, she guessed. She’d decided to play a little game and guess how tall each of these men were. For each one she got right, she’d have to give herself a little reward.
“Come on in. I’ve made enough breakfast for everyone.” Gretchen smiled.
His eyes widened in surprise. At least she thought it was surprise, but it almost looked like horror. That didn’t make sense, though. Why would bacon, sausage, and waffles horrify anyone? She’d even made her mother’s buttery syrup.
He hesitated a moment before stepping next to the table.
“Go ahead. Sit down,” Gretchen urged. “Now, I’m sorry we weren’t introduced properly yesterday. My name is Gretchen, and you are…?”
“Pallas,” he croaked as he continued to stand there in a stupor.
“Nice to meet you, Pallas. Do have a seat.” She pulled him over to a chair. He hesitated before he sat.
“Would you like orange juice or milk with your breakfast?” she asked.
“Milk?” He briefly glanced down at her chest. He turned away, blushing. Wow. Gretchen had never seen a man that size blush.
“Milk it is.”
At those words, he jerked and looked like he was thinking of springing from the chair and bolting out the door. Gretchen tried to think of something to say to put him at ease.
“How long have you known Xanthus?”
“Um, I haven’t known him long.”
“How did you two meet?”
“You don’t want to know.” The answer didn’t come from Pallas, but from another man standing in the door. Six-seven, no maybe six-eight—about the same height as Kyros.
“Hello there, I’m Gretchen.”
“Straton,” he answered, hesitantly.
Gretchen’s smile widened. “Welcome to the party.”
Straton raised an eyebrow. “Party?” He looked genuinely confused.
“Breakfast,” Gretchen clarified as she dropped two plates filled with hot food in front of Pallas.
“Oh no. I’m not hungry.” Straton shook his head.
“Oh, don’t be silly. A man your size has to eat a lot of food. Sit down. I didn’t slave over a hot stove all morning for nothing.”
