“Who—” I cleared my throat. Lamb that had been delicious seconds before had suddenly lost all taste. Would I have been executed for my crimes if I’d committed them in the free zone? And if I’d been a man? “Who does it?”
“It’s always either Drew or me,” Titus said. “Or sometimes Jace. We can’t ask the other men to do a job we’re not willing to take on ourselves, as leaders, and the emotional burden of carrying out an execution… Well, it’s not something to be taken lightly.”
“And on that note…” Knox stood with his plate. “It’s time for dessert.”
Again, Drew and Brandt cleared the dishes—including the service plate—while Loch and Naveen helped Knox bring out our final course. Titus poured sherry as the dessert wine, but Spencer and I—both guests—were not allowed to help with anything.
Dessert turned out to be crème brûlée, in the very dishes I’d seen Knox toasting earlier.
“There’s a plate for Morris on the kitchen island,” he said as he set the final dish in front of Titus. “When we’re done, Spencer, you’re welcome to take it out to him.”
“Not on my mother’s china,” Titus insisted.
Knox rolled his eyes. “It’s on a paper plate.”
I’d never had crème brûlée before, and I had to watch the others break the sugary crust on top to be sure that’s what I was supposed to do. When the first bite nearly melted on my tongue, I realized that my own culinary skills weren’t up to the challenge and I wondered if I could achieve the same effect by taking a lit match to the top of a vanilla pudding cup.
After dinner, I brushed off a chorus of objections as I helped carry the dishes to the kitchen, where I found Titus at the sink with his sleeves rolled up, elbows deep in steaming sudsy water.
I laughed as I set a stack of small, shallow dishes on the counter to the left of the sink.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded, as he ran a soapy cloth around the inside of a soup bowl.
“I didn’t expect to find dishwashing in your skill set.”
He blew a damp lock of dark hair off his forehead. “I’ll admit, it’s a relatively recent acquisition.”
“So I see. You should rinse in hot water, not cold. It dries faster and leaves fewer streaks.” I flipped the faucet lever to the left and reached into the soapy water for the bowl he’d just washed, and my fingers bumped his. I went still, reluctant to end the accidental touch.
His gray-eyed gaze found mine. He took my hand beneath the bubbles, and for one brief moment that neither of us knew how to acknowledge, we were not Alpha and tabby, embroiled in a political shitstorm. We were not lawbreakers, or revolutionaries, or rebels. We were only a man and a woman, holding hands. Wishing for a little more.
“Hey, Robyn, I set this phone up for you,” Naveen said as he stepped into the kitchen. “I’ve programmed all of our numbers into it, and you should have plenty of data to get you through the next two weeks.”
Titus let go of my hand as Naveen set the new cell phone on the counter next to the large wire dish drainer.
“Thanks.” I dragged my gaze from Titus to find the enforcer watching us with a quiet, knowing smile.
“No problem. Enjoy,” he added on his way out of the room, and I wasn’t entirely sure he was talking about the new phone.
Titus held the bowl under the hot rinse water and cleared his throat. “You know how to dry them even faster?” he asked as he reached past me to set the bowl in the drainer.
“How?”
“With this.” He pulled out a drawer next to the sink and plucked a dishtowel from inside, then tossed it over my face.
I laughed as I removed the towel with my wet hand and ran my dry one through my messy hair. “Does the guest of honor traditionally help with the dishes after a formal dinner?”
“No. But neither does the host. As with everything else in the former free zone, we’re forging new territory here.” His gaze caught on mine again, and we suddenly seemed to be talking about something else.
I stared up into his gray eyes, lingering in another small moment. “How could I possibly argue with that?”
Titus washed, and I dried, then stacked the clean dishes carefully on the white granite countertop. “You’re pretty good at that,” he observed after a moment of quiet so profound I realized the other guys must have retired to the guest house to avoid being recruited.
I rolled my eyes at him. “This is not a recently acquired skill for me. Nor is it complicated.” Yet I was never called upon to help at the Di Carlos’. Donna seemed to think that would have been taking advantage of my non-voluntary resident status.
“So your childhood was full of dirty dishes?” Titus asked.
I lifted one eyebrow at him as I slid my new phone into my pocket. “Was yours full of silver spoons?”
