ROBERT POV
Could I believe I was making pancakes for my mate at four in the morning… wearing nothing but a towel?
Nope.
But was I going to complain?
Also nope.
If carbs and caffeine were the price of convincing Pauline that this wasn’t some kind of hyperrealistic fever dream, then consider me the sexiest short-order cook in supernatural history.
“Are you sure that’s how you flip it?” Rett asked, raising a brow as he poured freshly brewed coffee into one of the giant mugs from Pauline’s kitchen cabinet. “That’s not how they do it in the movies.”
“This isn’t a movie,” I replied smoothly, sliding the spatula under the pancake and giving it a precise, practiced flip. “This is real life. With physics. And common sense.”
“Sounds fake,” he muttered.
“Unlike your cooking skills,” I shot b
