My cheek still burned from where his thumb slid across my skin. I didn’t even realize that something splattered onto my face. Usually, I was painfully aware of grease popping and the places that it bounced off my skin.
Christ, that thumb.
“Hey, hey!” Jasmine chirped.
I swung the fridge door open and put on a smile. “Pick your poison, beautiful.”
“This smells so. Fucking. Good,” she said as she dipped in and grabbed a bottle of water. “Did you help Brutus cook this?”
“I made the noodles.”
Jasmine whipped up, her eyes wide. “You made the noodles? From scratch!?”
I giggled as I closed the fridge. “It’s not that hard. I hope you guys?—”
“Holy fuck, guys!” Jasmine exclaimed as she rushed away with her food and drink. “The noodles are homemade!”
“The hell?” Scout asked as he charged in, beelining for a plate. “I didn’t know you could make noodles, Big Guy.”
“Anna made them,” Brutus said from the other side of the kitchen.
Scout about broke his goddamn neck snapping it toward me. “Youmade the noodles?”
I opened the fridge for Ariel as she dipped inside for drinks for her and Cap. “Guilty as charged.”
“Hey guys!” Scout exclaimed as he came over to the fridge as well. “Anna made the noodles fresh! Come get you some!”
“Wait, what?” Ghost asked as he dipped his head in. “Someone helped Brutus cook?”
I rolled my eyes as I closed the fridge. “You guys act like I don’t do shit around here.”
My brother eventually came through, plucking a large bowl for himself and a smaller bowl that he practically palmed in his hand. It didn’t take a genius to know who he also grabbed food for, and I stood there and watched as he scooped up the alfredo.
“What does she want to drink?” I asked as I opened the fridge for my brother.
He just stared at me, though. “Did you really help Brutus cook tonight?”
I just shrugged. “We figured you needed to be elsewhere. I think he exchanged his name with yours on the dinner schedule, so make sure to check it when you can.”
He didn’t budge, though. “Did you help him cook, Anna?”
I furrowed my brow as I stared up at him. “Yeah, I did. The fuck’s with the third degree?”
He peered over his shoulder, and I followed his line of sight. Brutus stared us down from across the kitchen, those arms of his folded over his chest and that heavy brow of his settled over stoic brown eyes.
“What?” I asked.
My brother’s stare ripped back to me. “Be careful.”
I blinked. “Uhhh… what?”
He finally reached into the fridge and pulled out two cans of soda with one of his hands. “Be. Careful. Anna. You know what you’re doing.”
But for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t have a fucking clue what he was talking about. “King, what?—”
He just turned and walked off with the two plates of food and two drinks.
Not before he shot Brutus a look, though.
