Chapter 23

Mason

The faint sound of Kenna's snores drifted through the living room as I entered it the following morning. It was evident the burden of her nightmares no longer weighed her down. I tiptoed to my kitchen with a plan to be the world's stealthiest chef. My first order of business was to brew a strong pot of coffee.

As I reached for a skillet next, I carefully maneuvered around the other pots and pans in my cramped cabinet. I stealthily pulled it out of the stack, trying desperately to not wake my guest. I wanted to make Huevos Rancheros for Kenna, considering her love for Mexican cuisine. But then I recalled the taco feast we had the evening before and decided pancakes would be the safer choice.

After all, who doesn't like fluffy, golden pancakes?

Before long, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the scent of buttermilk pancakes cooking in the skillet. I glanced at the clock on the wall, mindful of the time ticking away. The morning sun began filtering through the room, casting rays of light. I knew Kenna would be awake any minute.

I carefully slid the golden pancakes onto a large platter. Beside it, I arranged dishes of maple syrup, soft butter, sliced strawberries, and a shaker of powdered sugar.

"Wow, what a nice way to wake up," a gentle voice said behind me.

As I turned, the soft light from the window caught on Kenna's tousled blonde hair and lit up her face. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and let out a small yawn before giving me a sweet smile. She looked like an angel.

No, really.

She was the most angelic woman I'd ever encountered.

"I thought you might be hungry," I explained. "But first, coffee. I'm assuming you drink it."

She nodded.

"How do you like it?" I asked.

I poured the hot liquid into a mug while I waited for further instructions from my guest.

"A splash of caramel-flavored almond milk creamer usually," she said, "but I'll take whatever you have."

I didn't have any creamer on hand. Still, my determination to provide Kenna with the perfect cup of coffee quickly led me to an alternative: almond milk mixed with my homemade caramel. I quickly whisked the two ingredients together. The sweet scent of caramel filled the air as I poured the mixture into her mug.

I was satisfied with my makeshift creation.

When she sipped her coffee, Kenna's lips curled into a smile of approval. The corners of my mouth instinctively lifted in response. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting out a contented sigh.

"This is way better than the stuff I buy at the store," Kenna said as she gracefully eased into the same seat she had occupied during dinner the night before. "And you made pancakes!"

I shrugged, "It's no big deal."

I smothered my pancakes with a scoop of butter and generously topped them with sliced strawberries. I drizzled syrup over the stack before sprinkling powdered sugar over my plate like freshly fallen snow.

"Were you planning on having some pancakes with your powdered sugar?" Kenna asked with a giggle.

"Maybe. I haven't decided yet," I said before taking an enormous bite.

Kenna's eyes widened for a split second before she went back to decorating her stack. With the precision of a surgeon, she carefully positioned each strawberry slice on top of her two pancakes.

"Presentation isn't really all that important right now," I told her. "It's just going to be a syrupy mess in two minutes."

She brushed off my words and continued her needless decorating. Her movements were precise, as if each item she placed had a specific purpose, even though it was just for show. I half expected her to snap a photo of the masterpiece before devouring it, but instead, she took an even bigger bite than I had.

"So," Kenna began. Her eyes widened, and she made a quick motion with her finger against her lips, signaling me to wait momentarily. After swallowing, she exclaimed with enthusiasm, "So freaking good!"

Our eyes locked for a moment before Kenna's darted away, a soft pink hue spreading across her cheeks.

"The strawberries are as fresh as they come," I told her. "I picked them myself just the other day."

"You can pick strawberries locally?" she asked, her round eyes widening.

I nodded.

"How did I not know that?" she asked.

I shrugged.

"I have to go pick strawberries, like, today!" Kenna announced.

"I'll take you," I offered. "I need to get a few more for a dessert I'm making for a client tonight."

Okay, so maybe it was a small fib. I already had plenty of plump, ripe strawberries from my first strawberry-picking excursion. But could you blame me?

I wanted to see Kenna's reaction when she saw the bountiful fields of red, juicy fruit for the first time. I wanted to be the one to see her eyes widen with delight, and I wanted to be the one who saw those pink lips open with awe.

She tilted her head to the side, her brows furrowing for a split second before her lips turned up into a smile. The need to know what was going on in her mind consumed me.

"Okay," she finally said. "I'd like that."