–Deanne–
Wally and Jane were already bustling in the kitchen, their movements a quiet symphony of clattering utensils and low chatter as breakfast came to life. I perched on a barstool by the counter, watching them with half a mind and half a soul elsewhere. The morning smelled of seared vegetables, steaming tea, and domestic normalcy—none of which matched the pulse already tapping at my temples.
Caine arrived like an uninvited sunrise—fresh from his bath, damp hair slicked back, aftershave clinging to his skin like a whispered sin. His arms slid around my waist, his lips brushed my cheek. The heat of him lingered longer than it should have, and for a fleeting second, my body betrayed me. That low, traitorous flutter in my abdomen? No. Not now. I have work. I have three hours before I'm due to be competent, not carnivorous.
