salute [h.s]

chapter 11 - breakfast in bed & sexy showers

She received a plate from Harry and immediately she started to salivate at the sight of two eggs cooked sunny side-up, the gratuitous six strips of bacon Harry had piled on the side (he knew her so well), and the only slightly burnt toast spread with butter. She didn't hesitate before digging right into the food, shovelling it into her empty stomach.

When she glanced up between bites, chewing a little slower so she didn't choke, Harry was watching her, amused, those stupid little dimples poking into his cheeks. "What?" she said through her mouthful of food when he didn't let up.

"Nothing," Harry said with a shake of his head. "You're just one of a kind, petal."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything," he told her cryptically as he ate some of his own food, curling his legs under him so he was cross-legged sitting opposite her on the bed. "Just eat your breakfast and stop thinking so hard about everything."

Piper grumbled but did as she was told, laying her fork down so she could wolf through half a slice of toast. Bertie was sitting up now, gazing longingly at her breakfast, so she tossed him the crust of her toast as a treat. He let it fall just in front of him, not giving it even a moment's attention. His eyes were trained on the bacon.

"I know what you want," Piper told the dog as she picked up a piece of bacon and bit at it aggressively, "but this is my bacon."

She could have sworn Bertie glared at her.

"Did you hit your head yesterday in the gym?" Harry queried gently as he gave her a strange, concerned sort of look.

"Don't think so. Why?"

"You're acting even stranger than normal."

"Am not."

"You are fighting with a dog. Over bacon."

"My bacon is very important to me," Piper replied quite honestly as she shoved the rest of the piece she had been holding into her mouth. "If it was up to me, it would get its own category on the food pyramid. And not near the top with the polyunsaturated fats and hydrogenated oils. I'm talking down by the grains. 6-10 servings per day."

"How have you not had a heart attack yet?" Harry looked honestly mystified by this. She couldn't blame him really – he had seen her eat, and he'd also seen the inside of her fridge. The only fruit she had in there was juiced. And not the fresh squeezed variety. We're talking high fructose, aspartame, Red No. 40 kind of fruit juice.

"It's my superior body makeup," Piper informed him around a mouthful of eggs. "Speaking of superior body makeup, you owe me ice cream."

"I-what?"

"You said you would buy me ice cream if I survived the testing yesterday. I survived, hence I want my ice cream."

"I did not agree to anything of the sort," Harry denied. "You said that I owed you ice cream but we never settled on a deal. Either way, you didn't really pass, did you? You passed out at 18 push-ups."

A horrified look crossed Piper's face and her stomach roiled uncomfortably. "Please tell me I don't have to do it again."

Harry chuckled at her panic, the twat, and reached over to pat her knee reassuringly. "I fibbed on the forms and said you did 22. You're welcome." Piper let out a sigh of relief. Just the idea of doing that many sit-ups all over again was making her stomach flare in sympathy pain. "We really should get you on a regular fitness routine though, especially if you'll be training with Liam and I. I can even do it with you if you want. We could go running in the mornings or something?"