That would take more effort.
He started the croquettes in the toaster oven and started a cup of coffee.
Race snatched one of the apple fritters from the pastry tray, snarfing it up like he hadn’t eaten in months.
He liked watching that. “Do you want another one?”
Race tilted his head. “How long until the salmon patties?”
He glanced over. “Five minutes?”
“I can wait for five minutes.”
He couldn’t, and oh, that blueberry donut was good.
“I bet you Nolan thought of the donuts,” he said around a mouthful of food. “Ryder never thinks of donuts, not to buy them.”
“Nolan always thinks of pastries. He loves them. I bet it was your brother who did the salmon patties, though. I don’t think Nols knows how to make them.”
“War makes the best salmon patties, so he probably cooked them, and then the guys brought them over. I don’t care.” He stuffed the rest of the doughnut into his mouth.
Race licked his lips, eyes on his mouth. “What’s your favorite thing to cook?”
Weird question. Still, it was interest from Race, and he’d take it. “I make a lot of soups, things that can go in the crock pot. I’m busy. A lot. Following around my mate, you see.”
Race stuck his tongue out at him. “Next time? You stay home. You only get the chance to get shot once, and then you’re out of the group.”
Con’s eyebrows went up. “There’s a group?”
That earned him a grin. “Well, me and the mouse in my pocket…”
“Oh. Damn. I was hoping there was like, a secret code word and a group text and shit.” Con winked, eating another doughnut in two bites. Healing took effort. He was so hungry. “Though,if you wanted a group text, there’s one with my brothers and Nolan.”
“Yeah. I know.” Race shrugged at him raised eyebrow. “What? I need to know things.”
“Yeah.” Con frowned. “I’ve never seen you post there.”
Race chuckled, the sound fond. “I don’t. I just watch.”
“Ooooh, kinky.”
“You hush.” Race poked him, cheeks going pink. Yeah, okay, Race probably wasn’t too kinky, though he would bet his mate was sensual, loving, and then cuddly after.
“I just…I have a dangerous job. I got you shot.”
“Race. Stop it. I’ve been shot at before.” He peered at the patties in the toaster oven, and they were almost done.
“Really?” Race tilted his head.
“Yeah. War and Rye and I were helping Quin with a raccoon.”
“The raccoon shot at you?”
“No, baby. We were doing a rescue. The raccoon had tried to do a little discreet robbery and got caught by a bad alpha.”
“Oops. That’s a shame. No more shooting my bear.”
“No, I’d prefer that I didn’t get shot again myself.” Connal grinned at Race, then turned around and wiggled his butt. “You like me in one piece.”
