“Are you just going to stand there?” Dylan asked, looking for a bowl to mix the eggs.
August smirked and nodded, crossing his ankles and leaning against the frame of the door. “Is that a problem?”
“You could help,” Dylan said, nodding at the bread sitting on the cutting board. “Maybe cut some slices of bread?”
“Sure.”
August walked over to the counter and picked up the knife. It was huge, with a wood handle and a wickedly sharp edge, and Dylan wondered why August hadn’t picked a regular bread knife.
“Nice,” August said, holding the knife up and checking the edge. “This is some quality work.”
Dylan started cracking eggs into the bowl he’d found, adding salt and pepper and debating whether he should add some milk or cheese. He glanced over at August admiring the knife.
“Isn’t it a little big for just cutting bread?”
August shrugged, tossing the knife between his hands before he got down to business and started cutting thick slices of bread.
Dylan finished mixing the eggs, finding a pan from the cabinet next to the oven and putting it on the stove.
“Butter?” August asked, making Dylan frown. August wasn’t looking at him, and after a second he grabbed the butter off the counter and started lathering it on the bread.
“Can you hear them from in here?” Dylan asked, keeping his voice low and nodding in the direction of the living room as he stirred the eggs in the pan.
“He can,” Ryker immediately called out from the living room, raising his voice so that it carried. August grinned, leaning back against the counter with an amused nod, and Dylan blushed.
“That’s so unfair,” he muttered.
“They’re talking about the party today,” August said. “It’s going to be a pack run followed by a bonfire a little bit aways from the main house.”
“A pack run?”
August frowned. “You’ll probably be better off staying here for that and then joining us for the bonfire. Pack runs can get pretty rowdy.”
Dylan was fine with that. He could call his thesis advisor and explain why he’d missed their meeting, try to get some work done, and of course he could talk to Annie. He had plenty to do.
“We could carry you, if you wanted to come on the run,” August said, misinterpreting Dylan’s silence as upset. “We could use a sling or something to make sure you were secure.”
“No, that’s fine,” Dylan said, imagining himself hanging off August’s front in some sort of Baby Bjorn situation and immediately rejecting the idea. He grinned, taking the pan of eggs off the stove and scooping them over the slices of bread that August had buttered and laid out on Steve’s plate. “The bonfire sounds like it will be fun.”
“It should be,” August said. “There will be a ton of food and drink, and everyone will be in a good mood.”
“Do you want anything to drink, Steve?” Dylan asked, keeping his voice at a normal volume and wondering if Steve could hear him.
“Coffee, please,” Steve called back, making Dylan wrinkle his nose.
How was he ever supposed to go to the bathroom again knowing that his mates would hear every single noise?
Dylan might have to keep his studio just so that he’d have somewhere to go to the bathroom in private.
August grabbed the carafe from the coffee maker and poured Steve a cup of coffee, and together he and Dylan walked into the living room.
The sad slump of Steve’s shoulders had vanished, but when he looked at Dylan, there was a barely perceptible flinch.
Dylan wondered what that was about.
“Tell me if you need more salt, okay?” Dylan said, handing him his plate. “Sometimes I don’t put enough.”
Steve took a big bite of an egg-laden slice of bread, and after chewing for a few seconds, he gave Dylan a thumbs up. He swallowed and lifted the bread back up to his mouth, grinning. “It’s good. The eggs are just how I like them.”
