Tina stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, glaring at the unfamiliar landscape of eggs, bread, and a suspiciously shiny toaster. The sun hadn't even decided whether it wanted to rise, but she had. Today was the day she would prove that she could do more than command a company—today, she would conquer breakfast.
"Breakfast in bed."
She muttered to herself, tapping her finger against the counter with precision.
"Andrew deserves it. He works so hard at the bar. He deserves—deserves…"
She trailed off, inhaling sharply as a waft of her own vanilla-mint pheromones mingled with the faint lingering honey scent she always detected in the house whenever Andrew was nearby. That smell made her chest tighten in ways she refused to admit. Tina grabbed a frying pan with the determination of someone launching a corporate takeover. It was oddly heavy, and she nearly dropped it, but she caught it midair, glaring at it as if the pan had personally insulted her.
