The front door wasn’t locked. I knew I had locked it before I left campus.
Slowly, so as not to alert whoever was inside, I turned the handle and pushed the door open. Thankfully, even though the school had been renovated from an old castle, they had gotten new doors and hinges, making the door open seamlessly and silent.
My steps moved quietly across the carpet spread over the stone floors. I stopped by the entry table, slowly opening the drawer, and pulling out a .22 from inside. It wouldn’t kill most of the supernaturals here, but it would slow them down.
Humming came from the kitchen as I made my way down the hallway. The scent of garlic and tomato sauce filled my nose. No one should be cooking in my place. Had Abigail somehow gotten the wrong impression and thought to surprise me with a meal?
If it were the case, then I needed to set her straight. I couldn’t have a civilian showing up at my place. There’s no telling what she could see or hear. It could jeopardize the whole mission.
Holding the gun down at my side, I rounded the corner and froze. Standing in front of my stover, hips swaying back and forth in a pair of oversized grey sweatpants and blue tank top stood the very bane existence and reason for living.
“What are you doing here?”
Jack jumped, spinning around a wooden spoon in her mouth. “Oh. Hey. You’re back early.”
Eyes surveying her form, I sat the gun down on the island.
Jack grinned. “Were you going to shoot me?”
“Maybe. I still might.” Stroking my jaw, I cocked my head to the side. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”
“Hiding.” Jack looked embarrassed, but underneath, I could see her exhaustion.
“The rest of the student body keeping you busy?”
Jack swallowed, staring at the simmering sauce. “It’s just a little much. I thought moving rooms would help, but Xinyi found me within a day.”
“And you thought she wouldn’t find you here?” I leaned a hand on the counter next to the stove.
She lifted and dropped a shoulder. “No one knows about our past, even with my identity revealed. They have no reason to think to look for me here.” She turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce in the pan. “I hope you don’t mind. I haven’t had something that wasn’t made by the cafeteria in weeks.”
I shrugged, stepping up next to her. “Someone might as well use it.”
Jack giggled. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. The great Julian Fawley isn’t good at everything.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I smirked, letting the scent of her hair fill my nose for a brief moment before stepping back, restraining myself.
Jack scoffed. “Tell that to the four people you gave food poisoning to. Here, taste this.” She held up the wooden spoon filled with sauce to my lips.
I took the spoon into my mouth. An explosion of flavor danced across my tongue. I’d never tasted any pasta sauce like it. The only kind of pasta sauce I’d ever eaten was the kind that came out of a can. This... wasn’t that.
I moaned, eyes closing briefly before locking with hers. “Which one of your dads taught you to make that?”
Jack arched a brow, smirking. “Darren.”
Licking my lips, I watched her move around my kitchen like she belonged there. Longing filled my chest. “Does your mom not cook?”
Jack laughed so hard I feared she’d hurt herself. Swiping a hand under her eyes, she cleared her throat.
“You clearly do not know my mother.”
“Not a cook, huh?”
Shaking her head, Jack sat the spoon down and turned the stove off before leaning against the counter. “Not in the slightest. There are many things my mom excels at, but cooking is not one of them.” She stared at me for a long moment and then grinned. “You two have that in common.”
Rolling my eyes, I pulled down plates from the cabinet. My eyes slid back over to her, sliding over the way the tank top clung to her body, all soft curves mixed with toned muscle just ready to show someone what she could do with them. My gaze moved to the grey sweatpants she had rolled up around her hips, the brand logo on the pocket making my brows pinch.
“Are those my pants?”
