Talk about impulsive.
My therapist had told me I had a tendency to act on impulse. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he said, but something I needed to be aware of and curb when necessary.
I probably should have curbed it last night.
I smiled. I had tried. I’d said no at first, but Brad had really wanted me to come here with him. I still wasn’t sure why. It was so early, and even though I felt seriously in my bones that I was destined to be with this man, I needed to act responsibly. It truly was too soon for me to be here.
But…I was here, so I had to deal with the situation.
I quickly checked the clock that sat on the bedside table. Ten thirty a.m.! Brad’s parents would think I was the laziest person on the planet.
Brad was likely long gone. He’d probably risen at five and tiptoed out of here so he wouldn’t wake me. I figured I’d wake naturally at seven or so. But ten thirty?
Granted, I’d gone to bed after two, but still, I’d slept a good portion of the drive. Brad hadn’t, and he’d been able to get up.
Now what? Do I get dressed? Leave the room? My stomach growled. I needed food, but I couldn’t go into the kitchen and just help myself.
Impulsive, for sure. I totally had not thought this through.
First things first. I headed to the bathroom for a shower. When I was squeaky clean and had dried myself with the most decadent plush towels in existence, I dressed in jeans, a tank top, and my sandals, applied some blush and lip gloss, and—
Flopped back on the bed.
Seriously, what was I supposed to do now?
My stomach growled again. If only I’d thought to pack some snacks. I had granola bars in my dorm room, but they hadn’t made it into my bag. This really had been impulsive. I’d shoved clothes and toiletries into a backpack and just gone off with Brad.
I stood quickly. I was being silly. I’d been invited here. I walked to the door and tentatively opened it. The hallway seemed to stretch as I walked slowly toward the end of it. This was so surreal.
Lights from the large country kitchen loomed ahead. A woman stood at the stove.
I cleared my throat. “Uh…Mrs. Steel?”
The woman turned. She had dirty-blond hair, wore an apron, and had a big smile on her face. “Hi, honey. I’m not Mrs. Steel. I’m Belinda, the cook and housekeeper. Mr. Brad said you’d be up eventually.”
“Hi. I’m Daphne.”
“Can I make you some breakfast, Daphne? Eggs? Bacon? Toast?”
“Yeah, I guess. Thank you. Eggs, please. And toast. No bacon.”
“Are you a vegetarian?” she asked.
“No. Just trying to cut down.” I didn’t want to explain my new humanely raised rules.
“Coming right up. Mr. Brad’s out with his father this morning. He’ll be in around noon for lunch.” She laughed. “But you probably won’t be hungry by then.”
I smiled. Sort of.
“Coffee? Juice? What would you like?”
“Could I have coffee and juice?”
“You may have anything you want. Strict orders to make you feel right at home and give you whatever your heart desires.”
“Brad said that?”
“Maybe not quite in those words, honey, but yes, he said that. Between you and me, I’ve never seen him so smitten with someone.”
I warmed all over and touched my cheeks. They were no doubt red as a beet.
Soon the kitchen was alive with the savory scent of frying eggs. When Belinda handed me a plate with two fried eggs and two pieces of thick toast, already buttered, I inhaled. This country breakfast sure smelled good. On the table were several mason jars holding different colored jams.
“All homemade,” Belinda said. “Apple jelly and spiced peach preserves, right from the Steel orchard. The blackberry jam is from my own bushes.”
“You made all of these?”
“Guilty,” she said. “Try them all. The peach is my favorite.”
“I’ll begin with that, then.” I spooned some of the bright-orange concoction onto my toast and took a bite.
Wow. Peach explosion! With a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg. “This is delicious,” I said, my mouth still full.
“Thank you, honey. Like I said, it’s my favorite. That wild blackberry is something too, though, and the apple is all Fuji with a touch of crabapple to give it a crisp tartness. You like apples, honey?”
“Love them. Love all fruit, actually.”
“You sure you’re not a vegetarian?”
I smiled after swallowing my second bite of toast with spiced peach. “No. I’m just trying to only eat meat that I know was raised humanely.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place. The Steels have such a large ranch for a reason. All their beef is grass fed and pastured.”
“I’m looking forward to trying it.”
“You won’t have to wait long. I’m fixing burgers for lunch at twelve thirty sharp. Mr. George likes his lunch early.”