He turns with an exaggerated look of shock on his face. “Forbidden? What am I supposed to do with this information? I’m basically being held hostage by your unreadable literary genius!”
“Exactly,” I deadpan, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll never know what you’re missing. It’s my art. My gift to the world.”
Hayes chuckles under his breath, flipping a pancake in the pan with a flick of his wrist. “If your ‘art’ is anything like your investigative skills, the world’s in for a treat. What’s next? A haiku about syrup?”
I make a face. “Don’t even joke about that. I can’t be responsible for any future poetry disasters.”
He slides a plate of scrambled eggs and crispy bacon in front of me on the kitchen countertop that Ford has restored, and I inhale the scent. Damn. He really knows how to make breakfast.
“Here you go. Your ‘art’ is safe with me… for now.”
I grin, picking up the fork. “You’re spoiling me, Hayes. What’s next? Are you going to feed me breakfast in bed, too?”
He shrugs with a wink. “Don’t tempt me. I might just do it, but I expect a poem in exchange.”
“Ahh, no deal.” I laugh, rolling my eyes. “There’s only so much brilliance I can put into one day. A full-on Lo Marsh masterpiece would take days of preparation.”
He takes a bite of his own eggs, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes gleaming with that playful warmth. “I’m willing to wait. You’re worth the investment.”
“Flattery, huh?” I shoot him a teasing glance. “You must really want me to finish that pancake disaster.”
His grin widens. “That’s what I’m here for, Lo. To support your creative genius… and, you know, make sure you don’t burn the house down while you’re at it.”
“Making sure she doesn’t burn things down is my job,” Beck mutters as he walks over to the stove and plucks a piece of bacon from the pan. “Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot,” he hisses as he bounces it from hand to hand before shoving it into his mouth. “Haaa, haaa, haaa. Fuck.”
I arch an eyebrow and try not to laugh. “Hot?”
Beck nods with tears in his eyes before he finally gets the piece of meat down. “Yep. Just a little.”
Hayes chuckles as he plates Beck some food. “I hope you don’t mind, but you two were pretty passed out on the couch. Ford packed up the rest of your things and took them to our place. He should be back soon.”
I pause. “Wait, really?”
That’s when I look around and realize that all of my things are gone.
“Yep,” Hayes says nonchalantly, even though I can feel him studying me. “So we eat here, we clean up, and the rest is history. Your family won’t be able to touch you at our place.”
“Not without getting through us first,” Beck says around a mouthful of eggs.
I shove my plate forward slightly, looking at the delicious eggs and bacon, but feeling a little too full of something else. It’s not the food. It’s the warmth. The way I can joke around with Hayes as if I never left. Plus, the presence of Beck in my chest, dark and soothing and just a bit smoky.
It makes me wonder how full I’ll feel when Hayes and Ford are there, too. I love that nothing has changed between me and Hayes, despite this dynamic that’s growing the longer I stay in town. He’s always been one of my best friends.
“Thanks for this,” I say softly, meeting his gaze. My voice has dropped a little, the teasing fading into… more. “You didn’t have to. But I really appreciate it.”
Hayes’s eyes soften, the playful smirk melting into something more sincere. “I know you don’t always ask for help, Lo. But I’m always here to help you.”
“We all are,” Ford says as he steps through the front door. “Got a plate for me?”
Hayes puts some food in a bowl for him. “Always.”
I don’t know what it is about the way he says that, but he means it. It’s justtruthto him. But it hits me right in the chest. Hard.
I swallow, trying to keep it together, but his steady gaze, and the calm way he stands there, the way he’s always been there… I can feel my scent stirring, tugging at me in a way I can’t quite explain. I don’t want to admit it, but there’s something magnetic about him.
I want to mark him, too.
It’s not just the way he makes me feel safe. It’s the way my whole body reacts to him. The way my pulse quickens when he looks at me like that. As if I’m the only thing that matters in the room. The way my skin feels like a watertight suit when I’m around his scent.
