Page 71 of His Reckoning

I clear my throat. “You weren’t eating.”

Her eyebrows lift. “That’s your reasoning?”

“Yes.”

She pulls out the stool at the island and sits, still studying me like she’s solving a puzzle. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“What?”

“You cooked me breakfast.”

“I made food that happened to be available.”

“You actually plated it.”

“I wasn’t going to throw eggs directly onto the counter.”

“You added fruit.”

“It was already cut.”

She picks up the fork and takes a bite of eggs, then nods slowly. “This is good.”

“Thank you.”

Kayla takes another bite. She rests her chin on her hand as she still watches me. “You don’t do this for people.”

Her tone is far too certain. It’s not accusatory. Just … certain.

I lean against the counter. “You don’t know what I do.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh?”

“You run companies, terrify boardrooms, and host investment banker wine nights.”

“That’s a very specific description.”

“And you definitely don’t wake up early to cook breakfast for women.”

I cross my arms. “You sound very confident about that assessment.”

Kayla gestures toward the plate. “Evidence suggests otherwise.”

I don’t respond immediately because the irritating part is that she’s right. This is not something I do.

I can’t remember the last time I cooked breakfast for another person.

If I ever have.

Yet somehow, I woke up this morning and decided Kayla needed eggs. Somehow, this feels entirely reasonable until she points it out.

She watches me think through it and smiles slightly. “You don’t know why you did it, do you?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?”