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Guardian Angel: Chapter 2

The next morning, Erik awoke surprised to find he had slept through the night. *I wonder how my little guest slept.* He left his room, planning to get some toast for his breakfast then making another attempt to write something, when he was assailed by a dozen warm, savory scents. Bemused, he entered the kitchen, and the scene that greeted Erik surprised him to the point of speechlessness.

Michelle was busily bustling around the kitchen making what Erik assumed was her breakfast. She was humming some song in a sweet mezzo soprano.

For some reason, the domestic scene filled Erik with warmth. That annoyed him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. Michelle turned to face him looking a bit surprised herself. Then.she smiled at him.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "I'm so happy you're up now. It means I timed your breakfast perfectly. Do you drink coffee? Of course you do. If you didn't, you wouldn't have any, right? Right. How do you take it?"

Erik just stood there. His head was spinning from the whirlwind of words she just spurted out. "Black," he finally said.

"Okay." Michelle poured him a large cup of coffee and handed it to him. Erik didn't take the mug at once. Instead he held it, and Michelle's hand, and looked into her eyes. Michelle was becoming a bit unnerved. Goodness, she thought, he has lovely gold eyes. The thought surprised her. She tried to think of something intelligent to say, but her brain didn't seem to be functioning properly. Fortunately, Erik broke the silence first. "What color are your eyes?" he asked.

Michelle's eyes widened in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Your eyes. What color are they?"

She still seemed confused that he would ask, and Erik found that he enjoyed confusing her.

"Jade," she finally said. "Jade with amber flecks."

Erik nodded, but didn't remove his hand from hers. Michelle swallowed nervously, though she wasn't sure why she was nervous. "Um, breakfast is almost ready," she said lamely.

Erik frowned. "No, thank you," he said coolly.

"What?" Michelle was thoroughly confused again. Why wouldn't he want breakfast? It was, after all, the most important meal of the day.

"I do not wish to have breakfast," he continued as if she hadn't said anything, "and I would appreciate it if you would ask my permission before going through and using anything in my kitchen or home."

That cut it. "Look here, Monsieur le Fantome," she said, eyes flashing, in a French accent on the French words, and in rising volume, "I worked all morning to make you a nice meal, hoping it would cheer you up. And what do I get for my consideration? I'll tell you what." By now she was shouting. "A big fat nothing, that's what! Well, you know what? I'm not putting up with that. You are going to eat a huge breakfast and like it. Now, sit DOWN!"

Erik sat before he realized he had followed her orders. Before he could stand again, a plate heaped with eggs, sausage, fried potatoes, and a blueberry muffin was set before him. "Enjoy," Michelle chirped, all sweetness again. Erik sneered and took a bite of the muffin. Much to his despair, it was delicious, light and sweet and fluffy. He swallowed and looked at the rest of his meal. Everything was cooked perfectly and was making his mouth water. He looked up to see Michelle grinning smugly at him.

"I'm glad you like it," she said before turning back to the sink to clean the dishes.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Erik asked around a piece of sausage.

"I ate before you got up and, as you've resigned yourself to eating," she glanced at his rapidly emptying plate, "I can talk while you finish."

"Do you talk a lot?"

She grinned. "Constantly."

"Well, I don't."

"Good," she said. "I'll talk, you listen." She paused. "Um.Is there something I could call you besides 'Erik'? I mean, do you have a last name?"

"No."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "That's unfortunate. I'm used to addressing people as 'Miss' or 'Mister' and the like."

Erik looked at her. "You're British."

She grinned again. "Is it that obvious?"

Erik felt his lips twitch. "Your accent is most definitely obvious."

Before she could answer, Erik continued, "How do people usually address you?"

Michelle thought a moment. "Well, most people call me 'Miss Michelle'."

"Miss Michelle." Erik said her name as if tasting it, testing the way it rolled off his tongue. Michelle felt a shiver go down her spine. His voice was almost like a caress.

Michelle shook herself. What in the world put that thought in her head? She sighed. *I really should stop reading all those novels.*

Erik heard her sigh and wondered about it. He mentally shrugged; it was none of his concern. Now why did that that thought depress him?

He drank the last of his coffee and stood. "Thank you. It was delicious."

She looked at him, surprised by his thanks. "You're welcome." She grinned. "You could use some fattening up." She collected his empty plate and returned to the sink.

Erik was shocked. Were all young ladies so forward? "I do not need 'fattening up'."

Michelle looked at him over her shoulder. "You are far too skinny. I could probably see your ribs if you weren't wearing a shirt." She froze, seeming to realize what she had said, then turned back to the dishes blushing furiously.

Erik was greatly amused. So she wasn't as bold as she acted. Chuckling, he left the kitchen. Then he stopped. He had spent more time laughing and smiling in the last half hour than he had in his entire life. He looked over his shoulder to the kitchen. She would no doubt be in his way all the time, but Erik had a feeling it wouldn't be such a bad thing.





Author's Note: Okay, so it was kinda boring. I just thought we should get to know the girl a little better. The next chapter will be better. I promise!