“I forgot them.” I shoved the clothes inside the washer, then guarded it from his prying eyes. “Why? Did you get cat hair all over and need to do a load? Because this one is almost full.”
“Is it?” He smirked, his eyes narrowing with mischief.
“What are you smiling about?” I scowled. “Kat must've sent you home early. I figured you’d be devastated without your phantom limb.”
“Oh, nothing like that.” He strolled into the kitchen to switch off the cooktop.
As soon as he slid the kettle off the heat, it quieted, and so did my mind. Where was Sal? Hiding in the pantry? The guest bath?
My brother headed to the pantry door. “What flavor tea did you want?”
“I can get it,” I said, hurrying to beat him there.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” he purred, grasping the handle. Damn his long strides. “It was so nice of you to put two mugs out, anticipating I’d want something. What a kind, thoughtful sister.”
“Yep.” I huffed. He must’ve known I had a guest. The car was out there. Besides, it wasn’t like I could hide Sal’s nakedness without throwing myself in front of him, and that would only exacerbate my brother’s mockery.
Victor slipped into the closet and pulled out two bags of black tea. I peeked beyond the door to check if Sal was crouching or anything, but there was no sign of him.
“Looking for something?” My brother teased, pouring our tea.
“No. Just reconsidering the organization.” I shut the door.
He added a dollop of milk to his mug, then stirred, the spoon dinging. “So, how was your evening?”
“Lovely.” I blinked and tilted my head, mirroring his mocking smile.
“So glad to hear it. Anything you’d like to share?”
“No. Not really.” It wasn't like he’d told me much about Kat at first except that he ‘met somebody,’ although his dreamy smile and far-off look had said everything.
“Hmm.” He shoveled a few ice cubes into his mug, then sipped it. “By the way, if you’re looking for your boyfriend, he should be in the basement.”
“What?” I stiffened. “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing,” he deadpanned, batting his thick lashes. “But you’re not the only one with access to the security cameras.”
“Fuck,” I said. My asshole brother was toying with me while my friend was freezing. I snatched Sal’s clothes from the washer and rushed to the basement. Why couldn’t he have crammed himself in the pantry? “Sal?” I called, flicking on the stair light.
“Yeah?” he croaked.
Shit. He sounded far enough down that he'd have seen my workspace. I stormed down the stairs towards his pale, half-naked body standing in front of my workshop table.
His eyes shone with shock as he turned to me. Or was it fear?
I held his clothes out. “My brother already knows you’re here. We should head upstairs.”
He pointed to a prototype spider limb and the wall of blueprints. “What’s–”
“Old project.” I tossed the clothes at him.
He hunched over to catch them with his stomach as a mitt. “This is–”
“Nothing,” I said sharply.
“The Widow.” He shifted to shield his privates. “Did you…make The Widow?”
At one point, I’d have been proud to admit it. Now, my stomach tied itself in knots. “I made the mech at the theater, yes.”
