CHAPTER FIVE

When Leah first opened her eyes the following morning, she didn’t immediately remember the events of last night, she had a slight headache and she felt odd, though she couldn’t quite isolate what it was. The recollections didn’t come gradually as one might have expected. As they normally did whenever she woke up from one of her dreams. They slammed into her head simultaneously and with such clarity, it startled a gasp from the still not-quite-awake Leah. She sat up in the center of her bed so abruptly, she was momentarily dizzy.

“Oh God!” she moaned, slapping her palms over her face as if she could hide from the flood of pictures attacking her brain.

“Oh my God!”

The most insistent one remained in place while a slide show of the others played in the periphery. She was laid out on Mr. Brideway’s desk while Colin…

“What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?” she chanted behind her palms.

She’d lost her damn mind, and her wits and, well...everything.

She’d actually allowed two men to put their hands on her, to pleasure her while another --- her boss --- watched.

She fell back into her bed in absolute misery. There was no way she could go back to work now. Even if Mr. Bridgeway didn’t fire her, there was no way she could even be in the same room with him anymore. Nor with his brothers. And given their positions in town, it was basically impossible to avoid them.

Which meant she would have to leave town.

And never see them again...which was the point wasn’t it?

She wasn't going to feel sad about that at all.

A sudden bang coming from downstairs startled her from her thoughts.

Her immediate response was annoyance. Her neighbor's cat had found some way back into her home. She hadn't seen the little demon in over a month. Not since she'd lost her temper while confronting its owner for the millionth time.

Since she'd moved into her home, the overweight feline had found his way inside at least once a week, stealing miscellaneous items and destroying others.

Whenever she'd caught him and returned him to next door with a complaint, his owner, Mr. Jayn, who was an all-around unpleasant man from the get-go, had made some insincere apology while finding some roundabout way of blaming her for the incident.

Leah's temper was very slow to rise and she never really sweated the small stuff, so while she'd been consistently annoyed with the cat whenever he managed to find his way in, she'd always returned him and more or less ignored Mr. Jayn's rambling.

A month ago, however, the culprit had made his way into her bedroom and had knocked over one of her most cherished items, a vase her little brother had made her when he'd been 10.

That had been her breaking point.

Mr. Jayn hadn't spoken to her since, and the cat had been suspiciously absent. It seemed the peace had come to an end.

By the time she was trudging down the steps, she'd made up her mind to murder the thing and deal with the consequences.

She didn't even know why a Werewolf owned a cat anyway.

She came up short at the entrance of her kitchen, where the sounds had originated, when she saw, not a cat, but a wolf.

She blinked slowly several times and then rubbed them for good measure, but the hallucination remained.

Christophe Bridgeway was waltzing confidently around her tiny kitchen, cooking.

She stood there in a daze, her mind, though fully awake, unable to comprehend the sight.

He glanced over at her appearance and without missing a beat, came to her and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Good morning, little one," he whispered before continuing towards her refrigerator.

She didn't know what to address first, so she asked the question that popped up randomly.

"Where did you get an apron?"

She heard him chuckle with his back turned to her.

"I brought it with me. Along with almost everything else. We need to have a serious discussion about your eating habits."

She briefly felt guilty for some unknown reason. She couldn't recall the last time she'd gone grocery shopping, and whenever she had, 90% consisted of frozen dinners. She was about to explain to him that, though she was a pretty decent cook, she simply never had the time. But then she remembered she didn't have to explain anything to him. In fact, he was the one who needed to do some explaining.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"

This time, he did turn to face her, and the look he gave her made her feel like a child in need of scolding.

"Using your key. Under the flower pot. We'll discuss your punishment for that lapse in judgment."

"My pu---?" She stopped mid-sentence and started back up the stairs.

"Where are you going?", he called after her.

"I'm going to wake up!"

She slammed the bedroom door behind her on his laughter and threw herself facedown in the bed, screaming into her pillow.

She was in the same position minutes later when a knock came at her door, proving this wasn’t a long, drawn-out dream/nightmare.

“Breakfast is ready,” the intruder instructed.

Leah glared at the door as if he could see her.

“Be down in five, little one, or I’ll have to come and get you.” Although the words themselves weren’t very threatening, his tone assured her she wouldn’t like it if he did have to come and get her.

The stubborn part of her wanted to sit right there until he had to come back up the stairs, but her sensible side reared its head and galvanized her into movement. She dashed through the process of brushing her teeth and cleaning her face and glared at the mess of hair in the mirror before grabbing a hair tie and dashing down the stairs.

She almost fell flat on her face at the last stair but was saved by a pair of strong arms being draped around her.

“Are you alright?”

Yes. As soon as a hole in the ground opens up and swallows me, I’ll be fine.

“Yes,” she breathed out calmly, belying the riot of emotions toiling inside her, and eased out of his arms.

He chuckled in amusement, “You still had 29 seconds left.”

Leah sniffed in annoyance and stalked past him towards the table that was filled with more food than she could eat in a whole day, much less one sitting. She stared at the table for a minute, slowly realizing…

“I made all your favorites.”

His voice had come from directly above her, so she spun to face him… well, his chest.

She craned her neck to stare up at him, and he was staring at her curiously as if he were trying to read her expression.

He had made all of her favorites, but she was stuck on how he had known they were her favorites.

She’d used to love breakfast. It had been the only time during the day that she and her brother had been able to talk about anything, he’d been too busy with school and baseball practice otherwise. It was also the only thing he’d learned to make, in his attempt to cook her breakfast on her birthdays. He’d always ended up burning most of it, but those had been her favorite meals.

“You’re upset,” Christophe observed, frowning down at her.

Leah shook her head in denial, blinking away the sting in her eyes and clearing her throat.

“How did you know I liked chocolate chips in my waffles?” she asked, turning back to the table. There was a mountain of chocolate chip waffles, an equally impressive amount of bacon, hash browns, and French toast. There were two bowls of fruit, one with mangoes and another with fresh berries.

She was glad when he didn’t press her further and simply pulled out the chair nearest to her, and urged her into it.

He didn’t sit opposite her but occupied the chair directly to her right; far too close for her comfort.

Leah was too confused about everything she was feeling at that moment, so she decided to focus on the safest thing she could; breakfast.

“I can’t decide what to try first,” she declared with forced cheer as she stared over at the spread on the table.

When he remained silent, she peeked over at him to see him staring at her intently, a contemplative smile curving one side of his lips.

Of the three brothers, Christophe was the one hardest for Leah to read. He could be as playful and flirty as Colin one minute, and as cool and serious as Noah the next. It was harder for Leah to predict his mood and that made her the most nervous with him. And at times, Leah felt like he enjoyed her nervousness. Like right now, when she shifted anxiously on her seat at his gaze, the curve of his lips deepened just a little bit more.

“It’s getting cold,” she mumbled.

“Did you sleep well?”

Leah felt her face heating at his question, her mind immediately returning to last night.

She cleared her throat and snatched the glass of orange juice off the table, taking several gulps of the cool liquid. “Mhmm,” she assented around a mouthful.

Christophe nodded in amusement, while he started filling a plate. “Have any interesting dreams?” he asked casually.

Leah choked on her orange juice. Christophe patted her back gently as she coughed.

“You’re a lot clumsier than usual this morning, little one.”

Her coughing fit thankfully ended before she lost a lung, and Leah called back all the dirty things she wanted to tell him just then, sending him a fake smile instead, and answering, “Thank you for making breakfast.”

She expected him to force the issue by bringing up last night again, but he simply smiled at her and allowed a polite, “It was my pleasure,” before placing the mountain of food he’d piled on a plate in front of her.