“Oh. Yeah.” Fred handed over the garment, sparing a quick glance at his torso. “I’d be really afraid to meet you in a dark alley.”
He grinned. “For many reasons.”
She formed a duckbill with her mouth, nodding, as she looked at the sky. “I hope we don’t have a hurricane or a tornado or whatever passes for terrible weather in this part of the world.”
“For many reasons,” he repeated, turning for the backdoor.
Sebastian jumped up when Tristan entered the kitchen. “Here, you can have my seat.”
“No, it’s fine, I’ll?—“
“You’ll want to watch her at work.” Sebastian dragged another of the chairs away toward the wall and sat down. “Besides, maybe showing off for you will give her an edge.”
Natasha glanced at him in annoyance, saw Tristan, and did a double take, freezing with her knife poised over a half-chopped onion. Her gaze roamed his gleaming chest, slick with sweat, and her energy spiked. Frenzied pulses of light danced between them, reaching for him as desire filled her eyes, daring him to come closer. Daring herself to will it.
“Or maybe I’ll be a distraction,” he said with a smirk. Dropping his shirt onto the table, he headed for the bathroom. “I’ll just clean up and allow you to get back to it, shall I, little angel?”
She jerked as though slapped, and now her energy turned tumultuous, churning and rolling. It washed across him, thick and heady. Needy, almost. She liked the teasing, even if she wouldn’t admit it. He remembered that she’d liked being manhandled by him, as well, relinquishing control and delighting in his dominance. It hadn’t been the right time to explore it. It still wasn’t. She was edging closer to the cliff, taunting herself with the games, daring herself to give in, but she wasn’t quite ready to jump. She still feared no one would be there to catch her.
He didn’t mind waiting. The fun was in the chase.
He winked at her before he was out of sight. Her scowl made him laugh.
After cleaning up, he passed through the hall in time to see Mr. Tom come through the door carrying a large brown paper bag.
“Need help?” Tristan asked, putting a hand on the doorframe.
Mr. Tom eyed him. “With what, getting dressed?” He didn’t wait for an answer, hurrying toward Jessie and leaving Tristan to close the door.
“And here we are,” Mr. Tom said as he stopped at the table. “I apologize for the delay, miss, but half the food you bought was already eaten by the time I got Austin Steele’s message, and I had to send Ulric to the store to get more lunchmeat. You’d think we hadn’t fed any of those people in the last year. Well, anyway, I made you plenty to tide you over while the culinary contest drags on.”
He threaded between Austin and Natasha to grab some plates.
“Thank you, Mr. Tom,” Jessie gushed, reaching into the bag to grab one of the brown wrapped bundles.
“Now, miss, you don’t know which one that is.” Mr. Tom pulled the sandwich away from her. “This is ham.” He set it down before looking into the bag. “I also have oven roasted turkey, salami?—“
Jessie grabbed the sandwich again and tore into it. “I don’t care what it is as long as it is edible.”
“And that is what you get for entertaining these silly cook-offs when I am perfectly capable of managing.”
Mr. Tom pulled out two other sandwiches and Tristan put out his hand for one.
“Which would you like,” Mr. Tom said, looking at the one in his right hand. “This is?—“
“I don’t care.” Tristan reached a little closer.
Mr. Tom sniffed before shoving both toward him. “One wonders why I put all my blood, sweat and tears into making these edible delights, only to have you inhale them without tasting a thing.”
“If it tastes like blood, sweat and tears, that’s probably for the best,” Sebastian mumbled, taking the sandwich Tristan handed over.
“Alpha?” Tristan asked.
“Two,” he answered.
Tristan grinned and delivered two sandwiches.
“Lovely Natasha?” He paused behind her and was rewarded with her little shiver and her energy blanketing him in swirling desire.
