By the time they ate, they were ravenous.
And it was safe to say even well before he ate the delicious steak Belle cooked for him, Jack Bennett didn’t know what hit him.
But he liked it.
Chapter Fourteen
Breakfast at the Cottage
Calvin
Calvin Cole looked at the picture of his ex-wife and James Bennett in the paper and not for the first time in the past week he clenched his teeth.
They were casually strolling, his arm curling her upper body to his, her arm wrapped around his stomach. She had her head tipped back and his head was bent. Calvin could see a grin on Bennett’s lips even as their mouths were touching.
They were kissing for all the f**king world to see.
And Calvin knew that James Bennett was f**king Belle.
The bastard was f**king his wife.
His eyes dropped to the caption and Calvin read it for the twentieth time, James and Belle, still loved up in St. Ives.
“That f**king bitch,” Calvin snapped and threw the paper on the table.
His new wife walked in and he looked at her.
She was blonde, it was a brassier blond than Belle’s but it would do. She was also thinner than Belle which irked him. And she had faded blue eyes, not at all the arresting grey of his first wife’s.
She didn’t dress as well as Belle either.
Nowhere near as well.
She put a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast in front of him.
“I hope that’s okay,” she said quietly, like a f**king mouse, placing her own plate on her mat and sitting beside him.
Calvin didn’t answer. His mind was occupied with that picture, burnt on his brain. Like the one of them f**king kissing in Bennett’s f**king Jag, of all f**king cars. Calvin had always wanted to own a Jag but never had the money. Or the one where Bennett was holding Belle’s face and f**king kissing Belle’s forehead.
Angrily, he forked up some scrambled eggs and put them in his mouth.
He nearly spat them out.
His eyes moved to his wife as he chewed and swallowed.
“There’s no garlic in these,” he said with soft menace and watched her shoulders curl toward to her ears.
He f**king hated it when she did that.
“Yesterday, you told me you wanted pancakes, Calvin. I made sure we had what we needed for pancakes. You changed your mind this morning and we didn’t have garlic,” she whispered.
“Did you at least put cheese in the goddamn eggs?” he went on and she swallowed.
“We only had parmesan but it was fresh parmesan,” she whispered again and his hand flashed out, quick as lightning, the backs of his knuckles striking with perfect, practiced aim on her cheekbone.
She cried out and put her hand to her cheek as he leaned threateningly toward her.
“Go to the f**king store and get some f**king fresh garlic and some f**king cheddar cheese and make the f**king eggs properly,” he clipped and then picked up his plate and threw it across the room where it, and all the food on it, exploded against the wall.