It all happened in a split second. Pip taking off, the door bursting in, and Kieran’s gun acting like it was the main character around here.
Just before he got a splinter embedded in his forehead from the solid wood door, I pulled him into me and spun. He was still tucked into my arms when I made a three-sixty and stood facing Kieran, who loomed darkly in the doorway.
“Don’t you knock?” I wanted to know.
“This ismyhouse.”
So he liked to keep reminding everyone.
I sniffed the air. “Is that French toast?” I never knew he could cook. He’d been holding out on me.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Kieran asked, eyes sweeping the premises like he was FBI before dropping them to Pip, who straightened immediately.
“He yanked out his IV!” he tattled.
Kieran’s dark, reproachful eyes snapped to me.
“Whose side are you on?” I accused. How many times did I have to save his life for him to have a little loyalty?
“He almost shot my face off—again!” Pip exclaimed as if that were an excuse.
Dramatic.
I patted his head. “If he wanted to do that, he’d have to aim lower.”
Pip’s outraged gasp made me grin over his head.
Kieran rolled his eyes and stuffed the gun into the back of his pants. “It sounded like a pack of toddlers in here, all hopped up on sugar and bad choices.”
“Just because you’re a dad now doesn’t mean you’re an expert on kids,” I chastised.
“I’m not a dad,” he grumbled.
“But I just heard you call our fish your babies on the phone,” Haz said from somewhere out in the hall.
“Oooh, do tell,” I sang.
Pip tried to pull away from me, but I tightened my grip.The motion caused sharp pain to radiate up my arm and into my neck, but the minute I let go, he’d probably try and leave again.
Kieran stepped out of the doorway, revealing Haz standing right behind him with a huge tray of food in his hands. My stomach howled like I’d been personally wronged by hunger.
“I told you they can eat in the kitchen,” Kieran told him.
“You let me eat in bed,” Haz pointed out.
“Yeah, and I had to get new sheets because of the mess you made.”
Haz walked farther into the room. “Ghost is a patient. He needs rest.”
The glass holding orange juice was overfull, and every step he took made some splash over the rim. The silverware clinked together, and the mug of coffee was also dangerously close to spilling. He didn’t seem to notice, though, just continued toward the bed.
“He’s just grumpy ‘cause we slept on the couch,” Haz explained. “But he made this for you. I only poured the juice.”
That would explain the spillage.
I glanced at Kieran, pressing a hand to my chest. “Oh, honey, you cooked.”
“Get out,” Kieran declared.
