Act of Brotherhood: Paranormal Security and Intelligence (PSI-Ops) an Immortal Ops World Novel by Mandy M. Roth

Author:Mandy M. Roth
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Twelve

Nicolette went downstairs, following the smell of something delicious that led her to the kitchen. Since Clara was gone on a business trip, good smells were not something that should be coming from that room. As she heard Garth singing along to the under-the-cabinet satellite radio, she found it impossible to keep from smiling ear to ear. While the man was certainly hard to understand when he was speaking, his English while singing was quite clear and deep, like his voice.

It was only half past six in the morning and he was rocking out to Billy Idol’s “White Wedding.” The man did not shy away from the loud parts. She had to admit it was impressive. She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and bit her lower lip to keep from giggling at the sight of the giant of a man moving his head back and forth along with his shoulders, as he danced in place in front of the stove.

He held a kitchen towel that Nicolette had purchased for Clara as a gag gift. It said “Kitchen Bitch”—something Clara often called herself because she was the one always left cooking for them.

Garth’s hair was down again, with the smallest of braids sprinkled throughout, as it had been when they’d collided. He was in a darker pair of jeans than he’d been in, and was now wearing a green short-sleeved shirt that matched his eyes and fit him snugly, showing off his amazing body. She could have sworn he’d been in a gray shirt when she’d woken last night.

She inhaled but didn’t catch the smell of cloves, cinnamon, or vanilla. She just smelled whatever he was cooking, and him. Both smelled fantastic. Her body heated at the sight of him there in her kitchen, pulling a cast-iron skillet from the oven.

He glanced over at her and paused, holding the skillet in midair, the burner still lit. He reached out and shut off the radio. A slow smile touched his lips. “You look beautiful.”

She blushed. The man had seen her naked and a simple compliment made her blush.

He set the skillet on a different burner. He then wiped his hands on a towel from the counter before carrying over two plates full of food and setting them on the two-person table. “I wasn’t sure if you like frittatas. I hope so.”

She did laugh at the way he pronounced “frittatas.” It sounded like he was the spokesman for a bra-burning campaign with the sole goal of freeing all ta-tas.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she managed without laughing outright. It was hard. She took a seat at the kitchen table and beamed at the sight before her. “It looks amazing. I’m jealous of your culinary skills. I’m limited to blender things only.”

“I found some sort of gray sludge in the refrigerator. Was that your handiwork?” he asked with a teasing grin.

She nodded. “It is. Well, I can’t take all the credit. My uncle helped me develop it. Normally, I wake up craving a glass.

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