Cursing, Bridget attempted to scrape it up and toss it into the trash, but she couldn’t maneuver well enough for that. Instead she grabbed a clean plate from the cabinet and put it on there. Taking a steadying breath, she had to try again. With her second dollop of batter on the skillet, she was determined to let it sit there and cook properly this time. While that was happening, she took the plate to the trash and scraped it before rinsing it in the sink.
Bridget leaned over the stove top and stared at the pancake, as though by just looking at it she could make it cook faster. It didn’t work like that, much to her frustration, even though she knew that was going to be the case. She almost texted or even called Eli to see if she could walk her through it since apparently making pancakes was not in her skill set any longer. It had been ages since she’d made breakfast, only helping Eli, and even lately she’d taken to just not going upstairs for it since she slept in so late.
As she let that pancake sit, Bridget stepped to the fridge again and pulled out some fruit Jerica had stashed in one of the drawers. As she was cutting that up, she decided it was probably time to flip the pancake still in the skillet. At least this time it didn’t melt on her spatula, but it was completely burned on the other side.
Instead of repeating the disaster of pulling off an undercooked side of a pancake, Bridget let it sit and continue to cook. She was halfway through chopping strawberries, when warm arms wrapped around her middle and a gentle kiss was pressed to her cheek. Bridget relaxed immediately.
“Morning,” Jerica murmured.
“Morning. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” Jerica kissed her again on the cheek and then backed away slightly.
Bridget checked over her shoulder as Jerica leaned over the skillet and frowned.
“Did you make coffee at all?”
“Shit, I knew I forgot something.”
“It’s fine, Bridge. I can make it. My brain is still a bit slow.” Jerica went through the motions of making the coffee while Bridget continued to chop fruit and stare warily at the clearly burned pancake.
She would eat it. It would be fine. She would smother it in syrup and strawberries and she would survive. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? As soon as Jerica set the coffee pot to run, she grabbed the spatula and pulled the pancake off, dropping it straight into the garbage.
Bridget sighed, failure flooding into her chest. She couldn’t even manage to cook her girlfriend breakfast, and this time, she couldn’t even blame it on her injuries. Jerica deftly added more butter and then more batter to the skillet and waited.
“Sorry, I don’t cook breakfast much.”
Jerica gave her a pitying smile. “You don’t have to cook for me, you know.”
“I wanted to. Since you have to work all day and I’m stuck here doing pretty much nothing, I figured this was the least I could do.”
Sighing, Jerica moved in against Bridget’s side. “You are doing something, whether it feels like that or not. Healing is very important, because when you are fully healed, I expect you to be your spritely self for other adventures.”
Jerica pinched Bridget’s ass before cupping her left butt cheek. Bridget groaned, rocking into the counter as she shot Jerica a dirty look.
“How do you even know I’m energetic when I’m healed? You’ve only known me since I’ve been injured.”
“While you might have a calm personality on the outside, Bridge, you’re a Sheriff. And one doesn’t just become a Sheriff before they’re thirty by sitting on the sidelines and doing nothing. I strongly suspect you work more hours than you’re supposed to, especially being in a small town, that everyone calls you even if they don’t have to, and you show up. Because that’s who you are. You help people. You’re there for people, and it doesn’t even make a dent in how exhausted you are.”
Jerica moved to flip the pancake while Bridget gawked at her. How on earth did she know that from barely even knowing each other, and never while Bridget was actively on duty? Pressing a fist into her hip, Bridget narrowed her gaze. “Are you a fucking siren?”
Jerica snorted. “Hardly, but I am an observant person. And remember, I got to talk about you to Eli and everyone else out at the house when you weren’t around. All I had to do was listen to what was being said and what wasn’t being said.”
“So are you a little energizer bunny too?”
Shaking her head, Jerica moved in and pressed a hand to Bridget’s chest as she slid between Bridget and the counter. “Probably not as much as you, but I’ve heard people call me energetic before.”
“Have they now?” Bridget raised an eyebrow, dipping her chin to capture Jerica’s lips in a slow, tantalizing kiss. If only Jerica could be late for work, she would take that challenge and test just how much energy they both had.
“They have.” Jerica kissed her again, this time sliding her tongue slowly against Bridget’s.
Bridget fell into the kiss, completely forgetting the undercooked and then overcooked pancake. If this was breakfast every day with this woman, she would take it. She loved this. In fact, she was finally ready to admit that she loved Jerica. Only two short months since they had met, and it wasn’t exactly the easiest two months of her life, but Jerica had been the highlight of it, and Bridget was pretty sure that the feeling rolling around in her chest every time she thought of Jerica was going to continue and not fade away, at least not any time soon.
Jerica broke the kiss and finished making the pancakes while Bridget set up the table for breakfast. It was a quick meal while Jerica scarfed down her food so she could get ready for work. Before Bridget knew it, she was cast into the silence of the house, left to her own devices for the day.
* * *
As soon as Jerica got home that evening, Bridget had dinner ready—ordered, but ready—as it sat on the dining room table. If she had to play the role of the housewife for a few more weeks, she would do her damnedest to be the best recovering housewife possible.