He stared at her, blinking slowly. “What kind of car do you want?” His patronizing tone got all over Jen. And, of course, she had no idea what kind of car she wanted because she had just decided thirty seconds ago she wanted one. But now, she really wanted one.
She slid off the bar stool. “Forget it. Jared will be home in a few days. He can go with me.”
“He going to buy you the car too?” Stefan asked, his voice taking on a dangerous quiet that should have sent her flying back to the bedroom for cover.
But it didn’t. “Why are you so angry?” she asked, her eyes narrowing on him. His reaction was way out of line. She found herself wanting to see just how low and quiet his voice could get. “You should be relieved I got over my fear of driving, not acting like I’ve just stolen your favorite running shoes.”
The doorbell rang, interrupting their chilly confrontation. She headed for the door and when she opened it, she completely forgot to be upset. Lizzie stood grinning at her and holding up two grocery bags. “Hint, hint.”
Jen hugged her despite the bags, then took one and found everything she needed for pancakes and groaned in relief.
“I know,” Lizzie said. “He has yogurt, hard-boiled eggs, fruit, and bottled water. He’s not human.”
“I love you, you know that?” Jen grabbed the other bag and headed towards the kitchen.
“What’s this?” Stefan asked as she unloaded the bags on the counter.
“Breakfast,” Lizzie said. “Or it will be in a few minutes. You should stick around, Stefan. Jen makes the best pancakes in the world.”
“Pancakes?” Stefan echoed. “I’ll pass.” He’d poured the protein concoction into a travel glass and was drinking it slowly.
“I’m not making you any,” Jen assured him.
“Why not?” he snapped back.
“White flour,” Jen announced, setting the bag of flour down too hard on the counter. “Refined sugar.” The sugar also hit the counter. “Your nemeses, remember? Useless carbs. Ooh, blueberries. Good call, Lizzie.” She grinned at her friend. “Text Rogan and tell him to come down.”
“Rogan gets pancakes?” Stefan demanded, his glass slamming down a little too hard on the counter.
Jen swung around at him, her hands on her hips. “Rogan gets whatever he wants. Red velvet cake, brownies, bread pudding, and pancakes.”
Stefan took a step closer to her forcing her to back up against the island. His eyes weren’t frozen anymore. “Is that a fact?”
“Yep,” she tried to stand her ground, she really did. But the counter top pressed against her waist as she eased back away from him. “Everyone gets pancakes but you,” she informed him, her chin going up so she could keep eye contact with him.
His eyes narrowed. “What do I get?”
“Protein powder and yogurt,” she told him, completely forgetting that Lizzie was in the room. “And a boiled egg.”
“If you’re making pancakes in my kitchen, then you’d better make enough for me too,” he warned, his voice so low and quiet she could hardly hear him.
She looked up at him, her whole body alive with the angry knowledge that she had not imagined that kiss. And now she really wanted him to kiss her again.
No, no kissing
. She was furious at him. Her fingers caught hold of the granite counter top behind her in an effort not to grab hold of his shirt and jerk him down so she could kiss him. But if he stepped any closer to her she wasn’t going to be responsible for what happened next. “You won’t eat them.”
“We’ll see about that,” he leaned down, brushing his mouth across her startled lips. “I seem to be developing a taste for sweet things.”
“Uh, hey, guys,” Lizzie interrupted suddenly. She pointed at the door. “Do I need to leave? Cause I can just pop next door and see Rogan so you two can work out whatever this is.”
They both turned to her at the same time, both a little stunned and confused.
Lizzie grinned, her blue eyes dancing with humor. “I mean, it’s just pancakes.”
Stefan straightened up and stalked out of the kitchen without another word.
Jen watched him leave, then looked back at Lizzie, who was about to fall off her bar stool she was trying so hard not to laugh. “Don’t you dare say anything,” Jen warned her, but she was fighting laughter too. “Not if you want pancakes.”
Lizzie zipped her fingers across her lips, but she was still smiling.
Mixing the batter turned out to be an excellent outlet for all of Jen’s frustration. “What is the matter with him?” She just couldn’t hold off asking any longer.
“With who? Stefan?”
“Don’t be cute. You know what I mean.”
“Okay, first, I can’t help being cute. Second, he’s been like this since you left. All frost giant crazy,” Lizzie said. “And not in a sexy Tom Hiddleston kind of way either. More like a I’m-not-sure-how-to-function-because-Jen-went-to-Paris-with-the-hippie kind of way.”
Jen stared at Lizzie, the spatula forgotten as it dripped batter into the bowl.
Lizzie finally noticed her staring. “What? You thought he wouldn’t notice you were gone?”
“Well, I didn’t...” But she had no idea what she didn’t, or what she thought. “That’s crazy.”
“No, what’s crazy is that you two were all set to sail off into the sunset, and suddenly you leave for Paris, and no one is exactly sure why, and Stefan goes from serious, controlling guy to insane, mega-controlling frost giant. What happened?”
“Nothing,” Jen flipped on the griddle. “I got accepted to pastry school.”
“And it had nothing to do with the fifteen minutes you were alone with Madlyn at Rogan’s birthday party.”
The spatula started stirring with a vengeance.
“Jen,” Lizzie said carefully. “I haven’t said anything to Stefan but I know it was her. What did the Red Queen say to you?”
Jen shook her head, dropping perfect circles of batter onto the hot griddle. “Nothing.”
“I’m your best friend. I know better.”
“She didn’t say anything that I didn’t already know, Lizzie.”
She let the pancakes bubble, then started on a blueberry sauce. She knew the likelihood of Stefan actually eating her pancakes was pretty slim, but just in case he did, she was sure he’d like the blueberry reduction much better than maple syrup.
Rogan walked in just as the first batch were finished. He always had great timing like that. “It’s good to have you home,” Rogan said, hugging her tight but not tight enough she couldn’t fix him a plate. “We’ve missed you.”
“You’ve missed my brownies.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And your bread pudding.”
“Well, Stefan is making me stay here so maybe I’ll do some baking just to piss him off.”
Rogan laughed, snagging a blueberry. “Give him a break,
cher
. He’s still trying to recover from those shoes.”
She flipped the pancakes. “Really?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
Rogan joined Lizzie on the other side of the island. “When you walked in with him last night, I didn’t recognize you.”
“Rogan,” Lizzie laughed, pushing her shoulder against his. “That’s horrible.”
“Am I that different?” Jen asked, suddenly serious.
Rogan shrugged. “You look older.”
She flipped the pancakes over again, and when they finished she slid two onto Lizzie’s plate and two on Rogan’s. She poured up more circles as Stefan walked back in.
“Where’s my plate?” he asked, when he saw Rogan and Lizzie eating.
“I ate yours,” Rogan announced.
Stefan slid onto the bar stool next to Lizzie and stared at Jen.
“Stefan says he’ll eat pancakes,” Lizzie explained to Rogan.
“Bullshit.” Rogan laughed.
“Watch me.”
Jen took another plate down, dished up two pancakes, drizzled them with blueberry sauce, added a handful of fresh blueberries, and set it all down in front of him. She gave Rogan the other two pancakes without taking her eyes off Stefan. He stared down at the plate.
“Well?” she asked.
He looked up at her and grinned. “Am I supposed to eat them with my fingers?” he asked, sweet as pie, and Jen decided she might actually be capable of murder. Resisting the urge to stab him in the eye with it, she grabbed a fork out of the flatware drawer and handed it to him.
“Thanks,” he said, and sank the edge of the fork into the fluffy stack.
Jen watched, mesmerized, as he actually put them in his mouth and chewed. Something warm started to swirl deep inside of her. He was eating her pancakes. She could not believe it, but she was seeing it with her own eyes. He actually had closed his eyes while he chewed. Lizzie snapped a picture with her cell phone.
“Best pancakes on the planet,” Rogan said.
Stefan nodded, swallowing. “Delicious,” he agreed, “Marry me and I’ll let you cook for me every day.”
Lizzie snorted, almost choking on her pancakes.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” Jen told him. “I think your arrogance has finally peaked,” she said, but she was smiling. She couldn’t help it. The audacity of it was just too much, but that was Stefan. Arrogance on him was almost adorable.
“Maybe it’s the syrup I don’t like, normally. I like this blueberry sauce,” he admitted, rewarding her with one of his heart stropping grins. All the air fled her lungs and none came back to replace it. “I’m going to want more of these,” he warned.
“Banana pancakes next time,” Lizzie requested.
Stefan’s cell phone rang then, but he didn’t stop eating when he answered. She put two more pancakes on his plate, gave Rogan two more, and Lizzie one while Lizzie swore she was going to an extra spin class. Then she put two on a plate for herself. Stefan reached across the island, grabbed her plate and set it next to his so she would have to sit down next to him to eat.
He turned to her when he ended the call. “I’ve got to go to the office.”
“On Sunday?” Lizzie breathed. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Stefan said. “Rogan, you got a minute?”
Rogan nodded, and took his plate with him as he followed Stefan out of the kitchen.
“Things are better.” Lizzie smirked, trying not to laugh.
Jen smiled at her best friend. “He ate my pancakes,” she said, still stunned by the reality of it. She knew it was dangerous, but she just couldn’t help the tiny flare of hope that sparked inside her. “I didn’t think he would actually eat them.”
“Jen,” Lizzie said, “He loves you. I don’t know why you think he doesn’t.”
“He feels responsible for me. He worries about me,” Jen admitted. “And he does apparently want to have sex—”
“Okay, no!” Lizzie shook her head, wild curls flying as she threw out her hand. “Stop right there. T.M.I. I do not want to hear that. It’s just too weird and gross. Sorry.”
Jen laughed, and dropped her fork. “You started it.”
Lizzie waved her hands around. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
Jen cut her some slack and changed the subject. “Why didn’t you tell me about the house?”
Lizzie shrugged. “He made me promise not to, but if it makes you feel better, I spent a fortune on that furniture. He almost had a heart attack when he got the bill, but all I said was ‘Jen will love this’, and he was fine with it. And you do, don’t you? Love it, I mean? You’ve always loved this house.”
“Yes,” Jen admitted. Because she did love it. It was everything she could have ever imagined in a house.
Lizzie sighed. “I am totally a hundred percent on your side whatever you decide to do. But if you really don’t want to marry him, you need to tell him.”
“I have told him. Over and over.”
“I just don’t understand,” Lizzie said, suddenly sounding sad. “You’ve loved him since we were kids, and you were so happy last year. What happened? Are you not in love with him anymore?”
Jen took a deep, steadying breath. There were so many things she wasn’t sure about, but how she felt about Stefan was not one of them. “I don’t think I know how not to be in love with him, Lizzie. I’ve never not been. At least, I can’t remember not loving him, but you know everything is so patchy from before the accident, and I’m never sure what’s a memory or what’s just wishful thinking.”
Lizzie gave her a sad smile. “You don’t remember when you first came to live with us?”
“Bits and pieces.” She did remember Mac coming to get her from school and trying to tell her about the accident. The first real clear memory she had was after she’d been with them a year and they’d spent Spring Break at the beach house. She could remember how hot the sun was, the sound of the ocean and watching Stefan run on the beach. He ran every morning. She’d followed him down there and sat in the sand watching him disappear down the beach and later reappear again. She had no idea how long she’d been out there. She remembered when he slowed down because he saw her sitting in the sand.
“Hey, kiddo,” he’d said, “You’re up early.”
“I had a bad dream,” she’d told him, and she could still remember the startled look on his face as he dropped down next to her in the sand. All she had understood was that the sand was warm on her toes, the sun sparkled silver on the waves, and everything was going to be all right as long as Stefan was sitting beside her.
“I didn’t speak for a year, did I?” she asked Lizzie, the memory of that perfect moment causing a painful lump in her throat. It had been enough just to be next to him. Why couldn’t that be enough anymore?
“No, you didn’t,” Lizzie said. “Not until we were at the beach. I think you told Stefan you’d had a bad dream. You were traumatized, and you’d been in the hospital for such a long time.”
“Hospital?” Jen sat up suddenly, not understanding what Lizzie was talking about.
Lizzie moved closer to her. “Hey, Jen, let’s talk about something else. We can go shopping or swimming, but don’t worry about all this right now.”
“It’s too cold to swim,” Jen said, her heart rate rising. Was something burning? Did she smell smoke? She jumped off the bar stool. The floor tilted under her feet. She caught hold of the cold metal on the back of the bar stool. “Lizzie, why was I in the hospital?”
“Oh, honey,” Lizzie reached out for her. “The accident.”
“But, I was at school. Mac came to the school and told me.” There was a low-pitched hum behind her left ear and everything suddenly came into really sharp focus. “Oh, wait. Lizzie,” Jen looked at her, stepping back as Lizzie reached for her again. “No, wait. I was.” It was right there. Just out of reach.