“You’re wasting the cold air.” Spencer rolled her eyes as the piece of French toast sizzled on the griddle.
Snapping out of my straight girl fantasy, I closed the door with a groan. “The stove is making it fucking unbearable in here.”
Spencer raised her eyebrow at me. “Major Callahan, aren’t you supposed to be, like, tough or some shit? You worked in fucking war zones, for Christ’s sake.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d been sent all over the world to provide medical care. And every deployment was worse than the last. I still woke up in the night with flashes of what I’d seen, what my supposed brothers did.
It wasn’t all of them. Some of us were really trying to do good. But there were plenty who just came to hold an assault rifle and terrify civilians.
There was a reason I was standing in my dear friend’s kitchen and not working in the operating room of a military base.
As a tax for bringing up my tragic past, I reached across the stove to the plate of cooked French toast.
Just as I was about to snag a perfectly golden brown piece, Spencer swatted at my hand and clicked her tongue. “Chill, bro. It’s for the lady.”
Whoever this girl was, she had to be special to have the whole house in a tizzy. Dom had been put off by her within seconds of walking into the house. Then again, Dom was easy to piss off.
One of the first rules she gave me when I moved in was no guests. A part of me felt guilty breaking one of the few guidelines she’d put in place for Spencer and I. She’d never asked us for a penny of rent, helped both of us get work.
But I knew there wasn’t a world in which I let Kiera go home to that jackass.
And if Dom really believed in what our mark stood for, she wouldn’t either.
Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway and into the kitchen, shaking the glasses in the cabinet.
Through the doorway, Dom shoved Kiera into the room by the back of her neck. My hackles raised at the sight of her stumbling forward, my eyes catching on the buckle of her ankles.
“Caught your flea snooping.” Dom crossed her arms. Her forearms were pumped from hauling Kiera’s ass down the stairs — clearly, our little stray hadn’t made it easy on Dom. “Get herout of here already. I have a meeting, and if she's not gone by the time I’m back, we’ll have a problem.”
Without waiting for a response, Dom turned and left the room, uninterested in whatever fight Spencer and I would put up.
I wanted to chase after her, to grab her by the nape of the neck and give her a good punch in the gut. She was always a bit of a piss baby about her rules, but this felt different.
Sliding onto a stool, Kiera rolled her eyes and snagged a piece of cut strawberry from the charcuterie board on the counter. “Super cheery roommate you’ve got.”
Spencer laughed, grabbing a plate from the stack of four on the counter and passing it to Kiera. “Don’t mind the beast. Help yourself.”
Leaning on the counter, I got closer to her — letting her floral scent wash over me. It was a welcome refresher after a tense morning and a tough workout. Plus, I could see her eyes traveling over my pumped muscles. Maybe she was comparing me to that wiry boyfriend of hers.
Maybe she was realizing having a dick between his legs didn’t make him a man.
Meeting her green eyes, I smirked. “Should probably hang a ‘beware of dog’ sign on the front door.”
“That would help.” Kiera smirked at me as she stacked a small mountain of French toast on her plate.
“Enjoy. Let me know if I can improve it.” My eyes flicked between her lips and her eyes.
From behind the stove, Spencer shook her head. “Or you could kiss the actual chef, instead of this poser.” I could tell from her face that she was desperate to watch our little hostage eat. If I knew one thing about Spence, it was that she took a sick pleasure in cooking for hot women.
Kiera lifted her head to look at us, laughing at our banter. “I don’t think I’ll be kissing anyone.” Her eyes shifted between us. “Chef or not. I’m straight, remember?”
Groaning, I set my shake down on the counter and walked closer to her. I’d heard that line a hundred times, and only one out of ten times was it true.
Taking a bite of her food, Kiera let out a soft, tempting moan as she chewed. “Hm. If I was going to kiss a girl, this French toast would have me halfway there.”
Liar.Probably take even less if we tried hard enough.
I could probably ask her how her day was and she'd be on her knees for me. That’s how all those straight girls were, used to less than the bare minimum from their loser boyfriends. They had no idea how lesbians treated their women.
