Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,44
fact that her legs were embarrassingly weak. Just like her insides felt weak and shivery, and her lower back felt tingly. “There you are. Good to go.”
“Thank you.”
She managed a smile, hoping it looked serene. “How about some coffee?”
“I’d love some. Does Beck need a bottle?”
“He had one earlier. He should be good for a bit.”
“What about breakfast then?”
Erika frowned. “For Beck?”
“For us. Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’ll probably have something later. I don’t eat right away—” She broke off, realizing what he was saying. Billy was hungry. “You eat breakfast.”
“I like breakfast,” he agreed, prolonging the conversation.
*
Billy wasn’t ready to let her escape and move to a different room. He liked having her close. She made the morning feel special, as if it was a big weekend, or a family holiday.
Erika had always been pretty in a don’t-touch-me sort of way, making him feel as though she was too educated, too polished, too sophisticated for a cowboy like him. But when she’d helped him with the bandages and then his sweatshirt, he’d seen something different in her eyes. She’d been softer, warmer. Approachable.
He’d been tempted to reach for her and pull her closer to him, drawing her more snugly between his thighs so that he could feel her against him. He wanted to trace the line of her jaw and tilt her head up to kiss the hollow beneath her ear, and then lower, along the side of her neck. He wanted to feel her breasts against his chest, and let her bottom fill his hands. She was very much a woman, and her curves and softness called to him. She was so pretty, so smart, so appealing, and yet he respected her too much to make a move. He couldn’t risk hurting her, or alienating her, not when Beck needed her so much. Far better to deny the attraction than let it get out of hand.
“Normally, I’d make my own breakfast,” he said, leaning back against the island, “but it’s tough to crack the eggs and do it all one-handed, especially when my ribs are still so sore. Would you be willing to make eggs for me today?”
“Eggs,” she repeated.
“We have some, don’t we?”
“Half a dozen, I think.”
“Perfect.”
She hesitated, her brows pulling together. “I…” Her frown deepened. “Um, I don’t know how.”
“You don’t know how to make eggs?”
Her chin lifted a fraction, and she gave him an unsmiling look. “Have I shocked you that much?”
“No.”
“Are you testing my domestic skills? Measuring how much I mastered before becoming a woman?”
Billy knew he shouldn’t, but he laughed. She was so outraged. “No need to take it so personally. I was just surprised. I thought eggs were pretty basic and something everyone knew how to make.”
Her arms folded over her chest. “I don’t eat a lot of eggs. I am more of a yogurt for breakfast kind of girl, thank you.”
He fought the urge to smile, aware it wouldn’t help anything. “You’re welcome.”
“Are you in need of eggs to start your day?”
“I enjoy a hot breakfast and prefer eggs. Eggs are a good protein, and apparently there’s an enzyme in eggs that helps you stay full longer, which is helpful when you’re always hungry.”
“You’re always hungry?”
“I have a fast metabolism,” he confessed, amused, and enjoying himself far too much.
He shouldn’t like riling her up, but when she was feisty like this, she reminded him of one of his favorite hens, Mrs. Broody, who’d get so mad when any of them entered the chicken coop each morning. Mrs. Broody was the one who’d let out a squawk and then do her best to chase them away. Billy also suspected Erika wouldn’t appreciate being compared to a chicken.
“I had no idea,” she drawled.
He smiled innocently. “There was no reason to discuss it.”
“You’ll have to fill me in on all your requirements. Until now, I’ve been pretty occupied with Beck. Perhaps I should get a notebook and write down your schedule and your nutritional needs.”
Billy laughed, the sound filling the kitchen. Erika glared at him. He couldn’t remember when he’d last enjoyed himself so much. “I’d hate to overwhelm you,” he said. “Why don’t we just focus on breakfast, and I’ll stay here and give you a little tutorial—”
“Not necessary.”
“No trouble at all,” he replied, deliberately misunderstanding her meaning. “I’ll walk you through scrambled eggs today, and then we could try fried eggs tomorrow.”
Her lips compressed and her blue-green eyes blazed at him. He could practically feel her temper rise degree by degree. “How about you