“I’m staying,” Dorian replies, watching as I set two pairs of tongs by a large fork and carving knife. I let out a low moan at thesizzleas I plop the steaks on the grate, practically salivating. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so… content.”
I blink at him. “So far, you’ve seen me when I was zoned out at a library, with a dislocated shoulder last night, and today while I’ve been uncomfortable because I want to go home. My circumstances aren’t really permitting contentment right now, but cooking? Yeah, that chills me out and makes me happy.”
“Need help?” Dorian asks. “Or will I just begetting in your way?” He lifts his fingers to mime quotation marks around the words, telling me how ridiculous he thinks I’m being.
I feel my lips quirk. “I might have you watch the steaks in a few minutes when my first timer goes off. I’ll need to take the filet mignon and potatoes out of the oven.”
Dorian’s eyes darken. “I don’t want you going into the house alone.”
“Because it’s not safe?” I query, arching an eyebrow. “You’re the one who told me the three of you are under orders tonotkill me. I don’t think Seamus wants me dead—he wants to get in my pants instead—and you indicated that Connor listens to your boss.”
“It’s not a matter of safety,” Dorian growls. “It’s a matter of, I don’t want Seamus to get any one-on-one time with you—which he’ll use to charm his way into your panties—or for Connor to get the chance to scare the shit out of you.”
I contemplate that for a moment, prodding at the steaks with my tongs. “Well, I’m very practiced with resisting guys who want to get in my panties, and I’m used to fear.”
“I sensed as much last night,” Dorian agrees. “That doesn’t mean I want you to feel it.”
That’d be sweet if Dorian hadn’t already scared me half to death. Deciding to pivot topics, I ask, “What had you in a shitty mood earlier?”
Dorian waves a dismissive hand, but I don’t miss the way his shoulders momentarily stiffen. “Nothing. Legion stuff.Businessstuff.”
I give him a long look, pondering whether I should push for more. After a few seconds, I decide against it. Whatever’s going on with him is none of my business, and it’s not like I care about him. At least Ishouldn’tcare, even though I find myself wanting to know more.
My phone alarm for the dauphinoise potatoes and filet mignon goes off. I hand Dorian the tongs, quickly rushing into the house to take the potato casserole and steak out of the oven, smiling at the delicious scents. Since Dorian doesn’t chase after me, I figure he isn’tthatworried about his roommates.
Dinner preparations are finished up in silence. Dorian shows me the dining room, which features a gorgeous dark wood table. He helps me set it and bring the dishes over to it. As I take the desserts I whipped up out of the oven and set them under a warming light, I hear footsteps converging in the dining room, signaling the arrival of the two crazy guys sharing this house with Dorian. I inhale a long, steeling breath before joining the men gathering at the table.
I shouldn’t care, but I want them to enjoy dinner. I want Connor to stop seeing me as a liability and start seeing me as an actualhuman, though that might be a bit much to ask for. I want Seamus to stop withthe veiled threats. Making a nice dinner won’t solve all my problems, but it could be the distraction we all need.
In the dining room, Seamus surveys all the dishes with an expression of deep interest and intense longing, while Connor’s eyebrows rise as he looks everything over.
I spend a few minutes pointing at the dishes and rattling off what they are before taking a seat and anxiously waiting for everyone to dig in and give me feedback. Ilovecooking, and I also love it when other people like what I produce, what I sometimes spendhourson.
At his first bite of the dauphinoise potatoes, Seamus moans, “Holyfuck.”
Connor, who went right for the steak, gives me an approving nod. “What’d you use to marinade it?”
“Chef’s secret.” I turn to Dorian, who eats in silence beside me, throwing me narrow-eyed looks. Almost as if he doesn’t like that I’m impressing his roommates or doing anything that could be seen as a service to them.
Apopandcrack,reminiscent of gunshots, sounds off in the distance. Dorian stiffens; Connor drops his fork and knife, expression turning murderous; Seamus sighs. “Looks like we’ve got company.”
Chapter Nine
“No fucking way,” Dorian says, his words a furious mutter. “Thisclose to campus? They’d have to be insane.”
“This gang’s not exactly renowned for their sanity,” Connor comments drily. “This is pretty daring of them, though. Maybe it’s not—”
A crack in the window of the room precedes a bullet whizzing past me, missing my hair by an inch and burying into the stone wall behind me. I gasp, sweat breaking out over my skin as my heart begins to race. Dorian yanks me out of my seat and pushes me to the floor, behind one of the legs of the table. Seamus and Connor also crouch behind the table, exchanging glances and rushed words.
“They’ve breached the perimeter,” Dorian says to Seamus and Connor. My mind reels, going at a hundred miles per minute. “Let’s arm up and go give them a greeting.”
“What thefuckis going on?” I whisper.
Seamus glances at me. “Just some business, love. Unusual, but part of the life. Be a good girl and stay under the table—don’t move, don’t breathe too loud. They shouldn’t be able to get in, but—”
“But I left the back patio unlocked after bringing in the steaks,” Dorian says grimly, his words punctuated by several more cracks at the windows and accompanying bullets flying through.
Horrible memories prickle at my mind. This is not the first shootout I’ve been stuck in the middle of, thanks to the occupationof my stepfather. Consequently, the wave of anxiety that sweeps over me is almost debilitating.Almost. I push down the nerves in favor of grounding myself in the present, keeping my mind here. If I dissociate now, that could mean death for me.
