The next morning, someone was pounding on our door. That’s what woke us up. We thought it was Phelon wanting to clean or bring us something, but it was Bob and Terry.
I threw on a robe – a big, white fluffy one supplied by the cruise ship, and walked downstairs with Timothy to see who was at the door. Timothy hadn’t bothered with a robe, He just slipped on a pair of pants. Guys were lucky like that.
Looking under Timothy’s arm as he stood in the doorway, I lost interest. Bob and Terry were not nearly as exciting as the exploration of an ocean palace. But before we did any of that, I sat down at the table and began munching on a strawberry dipped in chocolate. It made me wonder who took a really really good for you fruit and turned it into a delectable but guilt-provoking dessert? Yet, it was only a fruit, right? I ate another strawberry, convincing myself that if I didn’t eat any of the cookies on the nearby platter, I was still eating healthy.
Not so. A chocolate cookie jumped into my mouth while I was staring at the strawberries. (It might have had a little help?) It was too scrumptious not to join it with a couple more.
Bob pulled up a chair and sat down beside me. “I stuffed myself already on waffles this morning. I couldn’t eat anything more.”
So he said, but he was already reaching out for a strawberry and grabbing up a cookie when his hand passed over the plates.
I laughed. Bob was always Bob, with an insatiable appetite, despite the fact that his abs showed not an ounce of fat. I supposed it must be the werewolf genes. Did that mean the two of them could stuff themselves daily and still never gain weight? Maybe I should check out how one could get some werewolf blood without going fully furry.
Timothy came up behind me, ran his hand over my back and then sat down on the other side of me. “I guess we can’t blame the men for knocking on the door. It’s after ten!” Timothy said, giving me a big smile, as if remembering why we’d slept so late.