Her father eyed her hand with disdain. “I feel fine. I don’t need a bunch of medication to mess that all up.”
“No medication, no breakfast.” Cambri wriggled her palm.
“What’s for breakfast?”
Her eyebrow lifted. “I can tell you it’s not the fatted calf.”
Although he harrumphed, a twinkle of humor appeared. “I almost forgot how cheeky you could be.”
“And I almost forgot how ornery you could be.”
He rolled his eyes, but grudgingly accepted the pills, swallowing them with a sip of water. Then he settled back against his pillow. “I always have sausage, eggs, and hash browns on Saturdays.”
“Believe it or not, I remember.” Cambri retrieved a breakfast tray from the kitchen and set it on his lap, mentally preparing herself for what would come.
“What’s that supposed to be?” Her father stared at the food in disgust.
“Oatmeal, whole wheat toast, and freshly squeezed OJ,” said Cambri smoothly. “Try it. You might like it.”
“Why isn’t there butter on this toast? Where’s my sausage and hash browns?”
“Your heart doesn’t want bacon and hash browns. It wants oatmeal.”
Author Rachael Anderson A USA Today bestselling author, Rachael Anderson is the mother of four and is pretty good at breaking up fights, or at least sending guilty parties to their rooms. She can't sing, doesn't dance, and despises tragedies. But she recently figured out how yeast works and can now make homemade bread, which she is really good at eating.
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