“Please. Just black.”
She handed it to him and picked up her own. They stood there staring at one another for an awkward moment before Colin said, “Thank you.”
She held his eyes, all seriousness, and then verbally knocked him on his arse when she said quietly, “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
Mr. Birch took that prime moment to bustle into the kitchen, sweeping a kiss across his wife’s cheek, and holding out a hand to Colin.
“Ah, Agent Douglas. Good to see you back!” They shook hands, and Colin made one last moment of eye-contact with Mrs. Birch, whose gaze was soft and understanding.
Colin sat at the table, rattled, while Mrs. Birch buttered toast and fried eggs, and her husband sat across from him wanting to discuss all things Scotland. Within minutes they were both devouring platefuls of breakfast. When they were finished Colin took the dishes up and rinsed them, despite Mrs. Birch’s attempts to do it.
He heard a shuffle at the door, and he felt Angela’s presence before he saw her.
“There’s my girl,” Mr. Birch said.
“Mornin’ Daddy.” She sounded tired and wary, the second part Colin knew was probably because of him. “It smells good.”
Mrs. Birch moved back to the stove. “Sit down, honey, and let me make you an egg.” She patted Colin’s arm and said, “You sit, too.” She inclined her head back to the table where Angela was pulling out a chair next to her dad.
Colin’s instinct had been to leave and let the family have their time together, but he didn’t want to be rude. He took a seat across from Angela, who stared down at her hands in her lap. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, which Colin thought was incredibly cute, along with the pillow lines on her face from the couple hours of sleep she’d gotten.
Mrs. Birch put a cup of coffee in front of her daughter. “Cream and sugar, just the way you like it.”
“Thanks,” Angela whispered. She and Colin sipped their coffee, never making eye-contact, while her father rustled a newspaper. After a few minutes Mrs. Birch set a plate in front of Angela, and then sat next to Colin, sighing happily.
Angela made no move for her fork. No move to eat, at all.
“Aren’t you hungry, sweetie?” her mom asked.
“Um.” She fingered the fork next to her plate. “Not really.”
Her mom looked sad. “You should try to take a couple bites. Just to have something in your stomach. You did so well last night…”
Angela sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, and Colin realized it was probably his presence hindering her from feeding herself. Part of him wanted to get up and leave, while another part of him wanted her to get past this hurdle, and be able to feel comfortable eating in front of him.
“Angela,” he said quietly. “You can eat.”
A breath left her, and she seemed to roll her shoulders inward, balling herself. Both her parents were watching her now, their eyes darting to Colin, as if trying to figure out the problem. He didn’t want to take drastic measures and be domineering, but he desperately wanted to see some sort of positive progress with her.
“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice low.
Her eyes lifted with hesitation.
“It’s okay. Eat. Anytime you’re hungry, you can eat.”
Finally, she picked up her toast with a shaking hand and took a tiny bite. Colin and her parents deflated of their tension, relaxing back into their seats. The Birches chatted about weather, while Colin watched Angela eating, wanting so damn badly to reward her for being a good girl. He could think of several ways.
He cleared his throat and stood. Thoughts like that were inappropriate as it was, but even more so in front of her parents. As he rinsed his coffee mug he heard a knock at the front door. He pulled out his gun from habit, although no criminal worth their salt would knock on the door.
“Stay here,” he told the Birches, who watched him.
At the door, he frowned when he saw Agent MacDonald, and begrudgingly let her in.
“Agent Douglas,” she said, smiling. “You’re back. Good to see you.”
“Mmhm.” He stowed his gun, then closed and locked the door.
MacDonald stepped in his path, moving her chestnut waves from her shoulder. “We should really have our talk today.”
“Sure. Later.” He moved around her, heading toward the kitchen with the other Agent on his heels. None of the Birches looked thrilled at the sight of her.
“Good morning,” Agent MacDonald said with false cheeriness.
Mrs. Birch offered her coffee without a smile.
“No, thank you. I’ve had mine already.”