Page 33 of Saving Wyatt

He nodded and put his phone down, then turned around on the sofa so he could put his hands and head on the back of it and look at me, totally oblivious of how cute and sexy he looked like that. His blue eyes were almost hypnotizing in the dim, warm light of the apartment.

"Yeah. Just... Elliot is determined to take me to an early grave."

I smiled. "Who is Elliot?" I asked and closed my laptop.

"This kid I took under my wing about a year or so ago. He was involved in some shady shit thanks to his older brother and living in a hovel."

I sat back. "Oh, wow. That's...intense." I'd heard of Elliot via Warren, but I hadn't known the full story. I just assumed he was a school-dropout that worked at Wyatt's bar.

"It wasn't really. All he needed was someone to give a shit about him and show him right from wrong. He's made tremendous progress since. He can even manage the kitchen all on his own. Well, could. There's no kitchen anymore."

He let out a sigh, and I pressed my lips together in sympathy.

"That's...very admirable. What you did. You seem like you care about him a lot. And he seems to care about you."

He shrugged and pushed himself off the sofa. "He's like the son I never had," he said. "I can't help but love the kid. If only he didn't have a death wish."

I chuckled. "Maybe you can reframe it."

"Reframe it how?" he asked and approached the kitchen table with his towering presence.

"Reframe it that he cares about you so much he's willing to put his life at risk for you."

He chewed on his lip for a moment before cocking his head to the side. "I guess. I still hate his recklessness. I have half a mind to put a tail on him so he doesn't do anything stupid."

I laughed. "You might also have to do that," I said. Then I pushed my chair back and looked at the stove. "Are you hungry? Have you eaten?"

Wyatt glanced at the stove too and scratched the back of his head. "I...I'm okay. I can get takeout."

I rolled my eyes at him with a little too much dramatic flare. "Why would you get takeout when I could whip up something quickly for both of us?"

He nodded his head from side to side then looked around as if searching for someone. "What about Warren? Is he not joining us?"

"I'll be surprised if he gets home before midnight. Don't worry. I'll make enough for him too."

He seemed to ponder my words for a bit before he succumbed to his hunger, and I got up to look through the fridge and find something to make for him.

There was a pack of pork steaks in the meat drawer, and I got an idea. I took the fries out of the freezer and heated the oven while I chopped the pork into thin slices.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked, standing beside me and watching me work.

I wasn't going to lie. It did make me feel a little flustered, but I managed to keep my composure, least of all because I had a purpose and determination.

"It's okay. It's pretty easy," I said.

"I insist," he replied, and I pursed my lips before I conceded.

"If you don't mind grabbing a large bowl from the cupboard," I said and then gave further instructions as I dumped the meat inside, and he helped me put together the marinade made of vinegar, red onion, honey, and oregano.

"That smells...interesting," he said as I left him to stir, and I put the fries in the oven.

"I promise it tastes amazing. I was hesitant at first, but it’s actually so good. And so close to the original flavor."

He narrowed his eyes. "What exactly are we making?"

"A little taste of home," I offered and reached for the frying pan.

"Greece?" he asked.