His little feet bare beneath his thick flannel pajamas. “I go with you?”
“No. You stay inside where it’s warm and be good for your momma.”
He chuckles at that. “I be the goodest.”
One look at that kid’s face, and I melt.
“Go,” Willa says. “And let me know you’re okay later.”
I nod. “I will. I’ll send some prospects to clear the drive later, yeah?”
Willa nods. “Thank you.”
Beyond the operational clanging of the bakery downstairs, the apartment itself is quiet, apart from the rhythmic creak of Grudge and Lucy’s bed. The two of them are staying here too. While I’m used to the sounds of sex within the motorcycle clubhouse, I’m not immune to the way it makes my cock stir.
I groan, quietly. Maybe I should have let myself jerk one out this morning. It would have been worth it for the stress-relief alone.
On the kitchen counter are leftover croissants in a paper bag. I open it and take one out. They’re firmer than yesterday, heading toward stale, but they’ll fill the rumbling hole in my gut.
“Morning,” a quiet voice behind me says.
I turn and face Wren. Their face is soft, but there are dark circles beneath their eyes. “Morning,” I say. “You sleep okay?”
They glance wistfully in the direction of their room. “Not yet.”
The answer feels cryptic. “As in you didn’t get comfortable enough to sleep well? Or didn’t sleep at all?”
Wren’s eyes meet mine. Another punch to the solar plexus. “Didn’t sleep at all yet. I just need some coffee.”
I look at the empty pot. “It feels like coffee is the last thing you need. Sleep might be a better choice.”
Wren shrugs and reaches for the coffee filters anyway.
“What you did yesterday, helping Grudge find Lucy, helping the club out, that was amazing.”
“It’s easy when someone leaves themselves as exposed as Lucy’s idiotic father did. I think people forget just how detaileda trail they leave behind. The digital nature of most of our transactions and the effect of cloud storage these days just makes it even easier to hack or find someone.”
While I eat the rest of my croissant, I wonder as to why that makes Lucy’s father an idiot. “The average person uses the cloud all the time, though. Don’t businesses use it and shit?”
Those eyes finally meet mine, but this time, they’re filled with an almost comical disdain. “Please don’t talk with food in your mouth; it’s gross. Yes, people do. But if I were making a repository of potentially life-ruining data, I wouldn’t just stick it in the cloud for anyone to hack. Especially if I wasn’t particularly tech literate. Any person who labels files as ‘final’ and ‘final v2’ and ‘most final’ is no computer wizard.”
I wince because I’ve been known to name files that way, and I make a mental note to never let Wren see the state of my laptop. Though it’s kind of ridiculous that instead of worrying about the missing money and why Wren is here, I’m too busy thinking about Wren finding out I’m shit at naming files.
“Why green?” I ask, the question surprising even myself. And fuck me if it doesn’t give me away as curious about the person currently watching the coffee pot bubble.
Wren glances over their shoulder at me. “Why green what?”
I point up and down in the direction of their hair. It looks lush and thick and I want to drive my hand into it. Bet it smells good too.
Wren looks down at their hair and runs their fingers through the ends. “Matrix.”
“What?”
I’ve never believed in any of that love-at-first-sight bullshit, but Itotallyembrace the concept of lust at first sight. When Wren looks back to me again, I swear my cock stiffens in my denim. Never been more relieved there’s a kitchen islandbetween us so Wren can’t witness my dick making a break for freedom.
“Think the green and black of theMatrixmovies. Less neon, though. I didn’t want to bleach my hair again because the ends used to be gray.”
“Huh.” Their answer makes my cock ache even harder, and I tuck myself closer into the island. “The chick in that movie was smoking hot. All that PVC and leather.”
