She took down mugs and he settled in watching her. She settled back to ignoring him.
This made him smile.
“What are you making the kids for breakfast today?” he asked.
She blanched visibly at the mention of food and then swallowed.
“Don’t know,” she muttered to the coffeepot which she was watching with avid but feigned fascination.
He decided to torture her. “A fry up?”
She curled her fingers around the counter and swallowed yet again before whispering, “I don’t think so.”
He bit back his laughter.
Then he called, “Elle,” and watched, with some surprise, as her body grew tight.
She turned only her head to him.
“I’ll make you toast and I’ll make the kids breakfast,” he told her.
“I can cook.”
“Aye, you can, very well. This morning, however, you aren’t.”
She turned her body to him and repeated, “I can cook.”
“Aye, but this morning you aren’t.”
Her shoulders went straight. “I am.”
“You aren’t.”
“I am,” she snapped and then winced at her own intensity.
He grinned, walked the stride it took him to get to her, put his hands to her waist and lifted her. She let out a startled cry and her fingers curled on his shoulders before her ass hit the counter. He placed both of his hands on the counter on either side of her hips, leaned his face to hers and spoke.
“You aren’t. Sit. Stay.”
Her eyes flashed with anger, her mouth opened to speak, he felt another, deeper, desire to kiss her and then her gaze darted over his shoulder.
Her pale face grew paler and her hands shot from his shoulders as if his skin burned.
Prentice straightened, looked over his shoulder and saw Sally and Jason both standing there, both their eyes locked on Prentice and Elle.
How had they missed the children arriving?
Sally looked like Sally, happy and carefree (though silent).
Jason looked astounded.
Prentice moved to Isabella’s side, a comfortable distance away and he held his son’s gaze.
Then he watched as Jason’s lips twitched to the side, his eyes grew bright then they dropped to the floor but Prentice could have sworn he saw a smirk before they did.
“What’s for breakfast, Miss Bella?” Sally asked, skipping into the kitchen.
“Elle’s sitting this one out. I’m making porridge,” Prentice answered, reaching for the bread to make Elle’s toast.