Pember shrugged, giving him a sympathetic look. “I mean… kind of. There was cake after you left… Probably just the boss trying to cheer everyone up. And balloons, and?—”
“There was a party?” Taylor huffed. “Pem, was there a fucking party? Is that where you and Blake were last night?”
A blush crept up Pember’s neck as he waved the comment away. “N-no, not a party. Just a gathering in one of the briefing rooms. The boss announced it and then the cake came out. Honestly, Blake and I didn’t really know what it was about. There was actually a stabbing, and Wallace needed another pair of hands, so…”
Taylor crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And I bet Wallace had some cake too.”
Pember flushed even redder, making the tips of his ears light up. “Anyway,” he said breathily, “Falkington. That’s exciting, lots of good people in Falkington. You remember the guys we worked with on the…” The words trailed off as he glanced down. “Sorry. I keep forgetting you were friends with Sam.”
Not wanting to face the wrath of Blake for upsetting his mate, Taylor playfully tipped his head. “It’s not Falkington City. It’s Dingly Heath.”
“The retirement village?”
Taylor bit the inside of his cheek. “Yep,” he said, popping the P.
Pember let out a bright burst of laughter, clearly relieved that Taylor had steered the conversation away from dead friends and lost jobs. “You’ll smash it, I’m sure. Just… don’t steal your colleagues’ food, okay? Or use the intox machine for personal reasons.”
Taylor pouted. “I knew Wallace had cake.”
“I mean, you did invade our lab every day. All Wallace could hear from his office was you guys snoring.”
Shrugging, Taylor took another sip of Coke. “What can I say? It was tiring work, being a task monkey for Major Crime.”
Pember downed his coffee before hopping off the plant pot. “Just try your best, andpleasesort your exhaust out. I swear your car gives Blake heart palpitations.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Taylor replied, moving towards his own back door. “Andyouput a muzzle on that bloody bird, because it givesmeearache.”
“Do they make muzzles for birds?” With that, Pember disappeared into the house and closed the door behind him.
“They should,” Taylor muttered, stepping back into the kitchen.
Clattering around, he made himself a bowl of cereal, grumbling as he dug a spoon into the bowl that had Cereal Killer etched across it in looping letters. He chewed loudly, pushing the food around his mouth, between his teeth and over the back of his tongue. It was a trick he’d picked up when he was a kid, when his mum was too depressed to feed him. It convinced his brain that he was eating more, and pulverising it thoroughly staved off the hunger pains for longer.
He didn’t need to do that now, but the habit had stuck.
Leaning back in the swanky leather dining chair (that had also been a cast-off from the restaurant), Taylor glanced at the clock and then over his shoulder at the front door. Johnny would be back soon and they’d have to face the music.
He dropped the cereal bowl into the sink before throwing half a banana and a couple of handfuls of leftover blackberries into the bullet mixer on the corner of the worktop. He ran the fruit between his fingers, feeling the squishy bumps under the pad of his thumb. After adding milk and Johnny’s strawberry protein powder, he whizzed it all up and tipped it into a glass.
Right on cue, he heard voices coming from the front of the house, and when he looked out the bay window, there were Blake and Johnny at the bottom of the garden steps. Johnny was bent over, dry-heaving as Blake slapped him on the back.
Taylor laughed and opened the door. “Can you not kill my housemate, please? I need him for rent money.”
Johnny flipped him the middle finger as he straightened, his black vest and running shorts clinging to his sweaty skin and showing off his perfectly defined abs and cut hips. The bastard looked like a silky black seal with an eight pack.
Borderline public indecency.
Taylor glanced guiltily at the set of weights in the corner of the living room. He really should start up again, sooner rather than later.
Despite breathing hard, Johnny bounded up the garden path and slipped the glass out of Taylor’s hand. “Thanks,” he said, pressing it to his mouth.
Blake cocked a brow and watched them as they stood squashed together in the doorway.
“Hope you enjoyed the cake!” Taylor called, scowling at the other alpha as he pushed open his own gate and hopped up the steps.
Blake smirked, pushing his slightly greying brown hair off his forehead. “Enjoy Dingly Heath,” he said, before slipping inside and closing the door.
“Don’t antagonise him,” Johnny said, finishing the smoothie and shoving Taylor inside.
