9
LYNNE
I rolled over in bed and opened my eyes, vaguely aware of an unexpected aroma in the air. As I emerged from the fog of sleep, I realized what I was smelling. Food. I got out of bed, padding barefoot to the kitchen.
I found Connor standing at the stove, wearing jeans and a blue work shirt. He had a dishtowel draped over one shoulder and a frying pan in hand. He was heaping scrambled eggs onto two plates that already held bacon and fried potatoes.
He glanced over his shoulder when he realized I was there. “Good morning, Raven,” he greeted me cheerfully.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Proving I can cook.” He put down the frying pan and moved the plates to the table. “Toast?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” So he hadn't been kidding. He really could cook.
He popped four slices of
