Claire's POV
Louis served breakfast with extra care, taking his time with the plating. Everything was arranged precisely, perfect and clean, just like him.
"And are you sure you really made this?" I asked again, still dountful. "I can't quite believe it."
"Claire," he said, amusement lacing his voice. "I can do a lot of things. I'm not going to lie about cooking waffles, of all things."
Well, damn. If anything, he just got hotter.
"I'm afraid your expectations of me are set way too low if you think waffles and eggs are such a big deal," he added with that arrogant little smirk.
I rolled my eyes.
Pfft. I couldn't make a decent plate of that.
"What else can you cook, then?"
"I can cook very well in the bedroom too," Louis replied, waggling his brows. "If you know what I mean."
"Louis," I warned, warmth flooding my cheeks. "Be serious for once. Come on."
