Claimed by the Alien Bodyguard - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,36
when he saw her most days; it was just her skin, just her eyelashes, just her lips. And she was even more beautiful to him like this than ever before.
“I’m so sorry,” Gabriela said as she walked into the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to oversleep.”
“You didn’t,” Broxen replied, hoping he didn’t look like a damned fool—or worse, a creep—as he stared at her. “It’s your, uh…day off. You had a rough night. Think you earned sleeping until seven forty-five.”
Ana looked up from the piece of toast she was currently slathering with jelly. “Morning, Mom! We’re making breakfast.”
Gabriela smiled at her. “I see that, mija.” She turned her face toward Broxen. “Anything I can help with?”
Broxen wasn’t deceived by the smile Gabriela had put on for her daughter—a smile that was meant to maintain the illusion that everything was okay. He could see the despair and helplessness deep in her eyes. He vowed he’d do everything he could to take those feelings away from her, to eradicate them, to make sure she’d never have to force a reassuring smile again.
“No.” He nodded toward the table. “Sit.”
Looking a little unsure, Gabriela walked to the dining table, pulled a chair out, and took a seat. “How long has Ana been up?”
Broxen offered Ana what he hoped was a meaningful glance before turning his attention back to the eggs. “Longer than me.”
“I woke up at six fifty-five,” Ana said. “I was too hungry to go back to sleep.”
Brows falling low, Broxen frowned down at the sizzling eggs. Had the kit spent that whole twenty minutes watching him sleep?
Gabriela frowned. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
Ana shrugged and carried the plate with the jellied toast to the table, setting it down in the middle before seating herself. “You were tired.”
“Did she wake you, Mason?”
Chuckling, he lifted the pan off the burner and dumped the eggs onto the last plate. “No, but she was there to greet me when I woke.”
She narrowed her eyes on Ana.
“What?” Ana asked. “I was quiet. I heard Mason growling, so I wanted to check on him. I think he was dreaming that he was a wolf.”
This time when Gabriela smiled, it was genuine. She turned her eyes back up to Mason as he took three forks out of the utensil drawer, picked up all three egg-laden plates, and approached the table.
“Mason was growling?” she asked.
“Yeah. Like this.” Ana demonstrated the same growl she’d done for him earlier.
“Still don’t think that’s accurate,” he grumbled before setting the plates down and pulling out a chair, sitting across from Gabriela.
Ana picked up her fork and began shoveling eggs into her mouth.
“She does tend to exaggerate things,” Gabriela said.
“Do not,” Ana said around a mouthful.
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth.”
Ana moved the food to one side of her mouth, making her cheek stick out. “Sorry.”
Shaking her head with a smile, Gabriela turned her eyes back to Broxen. “Thank you for breakfast.”
He paused with a forkful of eggs halfway up to his mouth—which was already filled with eggs—and looked up at Gabriela. He lowered the fork and quickly chewed and swallowed before replying. “No problem. Can take you to the store afterward. Get whatever you two need.”
Her smile faltered, and she dropped her gaze to her plate. “Do you…have a computer I could use? I need to let my parents know what happened, and…check my bank account, but my phone is gone.”
Based on what she’d said yesterday—and the look on her face now—Broxen guessed she knew exactly what was in her account.
Nothing, or damn near close to it.
“I’ll get my laptop when we’re done,” he said. He dipped his chin toward her untouched plate. “Eat, female.”
Her brows creased as she looked at him questioningly; only then did he realize what he’d said.
Female. That wasn’t how humans talked.
“Are we still getting hot chocolate?” Ana asked.
Gabriela’s eyes widened. “Ana!”
That interjection was convenient enough to nearly make him thank the kit. “Yes. We had a date.”
“Mason, you’ve already done so much. I…I don’t expect you to—”
“Are you…cancelling our date?” he asked, putting on an exaggerated frown. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a tactic Ana had used many times during her young life.
It was called a guilt trip.
“What? No! I just thought with… I wouldn’t cancel. I want to”—she glanced between him and Ana—“go on a date with you.”
“I knew it! He’s your boyfriend.” Grinning, Ana looked at Broxen. “I saw her staring at your butt.”