The Pregnancy Plot (Brothers In Arms: Retribution Book 2) by Carol Ericson Page B

breakfast?”
    “Isn’t this a bed-and-breakfast?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Then I’d like some breakfast.”
    She put a hand on her hip. “It’s not like you’re a regular guest.”
    “That’s right. I’m your fiancé.” He picked up his saw and started attacking the next piece of wood.
    She let the door slam behind her as she stepped back into the house. Brushing her hands together, she made a beeline for the kitchen. Her mom had been a great cook, but she hadn’t inherited that cooking gene. If she ever got this place back on its feet, she planned to hire a chef to cook the meals for the guests.
    But she had a guest now, and he had to be hungry after working for an hour on the fence.
    She rustled up enough ingredients for an omelet and made some toast to go with it. She put the kettle on for tea but Jase had mentioned relying on a cup of coffee to get him going in the morning. She hadn’t drunk much coffee even when she wasn’t pregnant and she didn’t want to pump the baby full of caffeine, so she didn’t even have any instant coffee to offer him.
    She poked her head out the front door. “I don’t have any coffee. I can run into town and get you a cup at Logan’s Coffee.”
    He reached for the top of a post and held up a white cup with a sleeve wrapped around it. “Beat you to it. I told you I needed a shot of caffeine in the morning to give me a jump start. Do you think I could’ve accomplished all this without it?”
    “Impressive. Are you ready for breakfast?”
    “You don’t have to call me twice.” Holding his cup in one hand, he stepped over a pile of debris and met her on the porch.
    “Let me wash my hands and I’ll be right with you.”
    She set the table as the water ran in the bathroom and then Jase emerged, buttoning up a different flannel from the one he wore yesterday.
    She circled a finger in front of him. “Do you think a flannel shirt is the state shirt of Washington or something?”
    He laughed and tugged on the collar. “If it is, it’s for a good reason. It’s chilly up here, and I have a feeling it’s going to get worse with that storm on the way.”
    “It’s supposed to be a monster.” She sat down and broke off a corner of toast. She’d passed the stage in her pregnancy for queasiness, but hadn’t yet broken the habit of nibbling on dry toast.
    “Where are you from, Jase? I detect a little bit of a New England accent.”
    “Really?” He selected a piece of toast from the plate as if he was picking out a new car. Then he spread a pat of butter across the surface in slow motion.
    “Yeah, really. Are you from the Northeast?”
    He shrugged. “Connecticut.”
    “And what did you do in Connecticut before your stint as a marine?
    “I taught high school history for a year before enlisting and went back to that when I got out before I decided I needed to write down my experiences.”
    “Were they bad?”
    “What? Who?” He crunched into the toast.
    “Your experiences.” She swirled the tea bag in the hot water, watching the ripples spread across the surface. “Did you have bad experiences during the war?”
    “It was war, but it wasn’t all bad and my book is mostly about that part—the not-bad part.” He took a pull from his coffee cup. “How about your...stepfather? Did he talk about it much?”
    “He was in Vietnam. I think it affected him deeply. He suffered from depression.”
    “Is that why he...?”
    “Killed himself?” She took a quick slurp of tea, burning her tongue in the process. “I’m sure that contributed to it. My mom was his lifeline, so when he lost her he felt as if he’d lost everything, even his will to live.”
    He shook his head. “That’s either a great love, or that’s obsession.”
    “They are different, aren’t they?”
    “Definitely.” He picked a mushroom out of his omelet and pushed it to the side of his plate. “Have you ever had either one?”
    A smile curved her lip as she resisted laying a hand on her tummy.