Reaper crossed to the counter and began pulling food out of storage. It looked like he was preparing two plates.
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
He continued what he was doing, not turning around. “You were earlier. Now you’re just letting your emotions rule your physical self. It’s not healthy.”
She scowled when he set a sandwich in front of her. “I don’t need you to take care of me.” She knew she sounded petulant. She couldn’t bring herself to stop.
Reaper leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
It startled her so much, it short circuited the sulk she’d been about to wallow in. Reaper had kissed her many times. He’d even done it in a rare show of public affection before. But he’d never kissed her like that, the kind that said you’re being unreasonable, but I love you anyway.
She stared as he sat across from her, taking the seat Cannon had so recently vacated.
“What?” he asked, noticing her expression.
“Nothing.” She looked at the sandwich, and felt churlish for having been irritated. He was taking care of her. It was one of the little things people did for those they loved, and coming from Reaper it was extra special.
“You’re welcome. Now eat.”