I track Bash’s movements to the kitchen with my eyes. I watch him break eggs into a bowl, grate some cheese and add milk. While butter sizzles in a pan, he cancels the paramedics from his cell.
“Our mom taught us to make eggs.” Cash is so close that I can see the faint scar through his eyebrow. “She wanted her sons to be independent.”
She must not have known at the time that they’d be able to send down for eggs and pickles anytime they wanted.
“What’s your specialty?” I ask.
He grins at me. “Risotto.”
Eggs and risotto. I could get on board with that. Not that we’ve spoken about anything other than food since I got here, but my hormones are latching onto it and holding on tightly with both hands.
I slide my legs over the side of the couch to stand up, and Cash holds my hand.
Memories of the night we spent together come flooding back when I’m standing in front of him. I can still feel his hand fisting my hair, can still taste his kisses, can still feel him inside me.
“Remy, I want you to know that?—”
“The eggs are ready.” Bash’s voice wrenches us apart, and I’m grateful for the interlude.
I don’t trust myself when I’m around him, and the last thing I need right now is to jump straight back into bed with one of them.
Cash pulls a chrome stool out for me and waits for me to sit down before sitting beside me. Bash serves my eggs on a couple of slices of hot buttered toast. He slides the plate across the counter with a glass of iced water and sits across from me.
I inhale the aroma of cheesy eggs and grin at the plate. The first mouthful melts on my tongue. I didn’t realize how ravenous I was until I’m halfway through the meal and look up to find them both staring at me.
“These are so good.” My hand raises the next forkful to my mouth without any internal cooperation.
They’re silent until I’m finished and I’ve mopped up the buttery goodness from the plate with the last morsel of toast.
Then Cash says, “Remy, you need to eat.”
I swallow the crust and wash it down with a mouthful of water, crunching an ice cube between my back teeth. “I do eat.”
He ignores me. “We’ll call you every mealtime if we must.”
Now that my hunger has been satisfied, my body switches its attention to other things. Namely how irresistible they both are. I delayed speaking to them because I didn’t want to choose, so it was easier to avoid them. But sitting here with Cash on my left-hand side, and Bash in front of me, my body is doing the talking, and my body wants them both.
Only that’s impossible.
I dig my fingernails into my palms underneath the counter. “What did you want to speak to me about?” It will be better for everyone if we get this over and done with and I can get the hell out of here before I make a fool of myself.
Again.
“You,” Cash says.
“Us,” Bash adds.
“All of it,” they say together.
I smile. “Do you always do this, speak in tandem?”
“No.” Cash’s shoulders relax a little. “We don’t finish each other’s sentences either.”
“But we do generally know what the other one is thinking.”
It’s like watching a tennis match, the conversation being batted back and forth between them and making me feel giddy. “Did you drive your mom crazy when you were kids?”
Cash chuckles and the sound tingles between my legs.
