Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“You’re supposed to crack the eggs in a separate bowl first,” I said, watching Chains hover an egg over the mixing bowl. “In case you get a shell in it.”
He shot me a look that would have terrified most people but only made me smile. “I know how to crack a fuckin’ egg.”
As if on cue, a tiny piece of shell dropped into the batter. Chains cursed under his breath, his massive tattooed hand looking ridiculous as he fished for the fragment with his pinky finger.
“Told you so,” I sang, sliding over to help him. Our shoulders touched, and I felt that now familiar electricity buzz between us. It was so stimulating I trembled with the adrenaline and sexual energy.
Just a week in the compound, and already the kitchen felt like mine. The women had embraced my Halloween enthusiasm with unexpected verve, helping me transform the utilitarian space into a spooky wonderland. Orange and black streamers twisted around light fixtures, rubber bats hung from the ceiling, and tiny plastic tombstones lined the windowsills beside my carved pumpkins.
We continued working. Chains grumbled the entire time, but the man paid very close attention to what I did and followed my lead like he’d been helping me bake for ages. It wasn’t long before the last batch was in the oven, and we started on the cleanup.
“Jesus Christ!” Chains jumped as Salem darted between his legs, nearly causing him to drop the mixing bowl. “These cats are gonna be the death of me.”
“They’re good luck,” I insisted, smiling as Lucifer followed close behind, tail high in the air like a furry periscope. Lucifer stopped and looked up at Chains and hissed before continuing on.
“That’s not what the entire fuckin’ world says about black cats,” Chains grouched, but I noticed he didn’t move away when Salem rubbed against his leg the next time. Progress.
“The Egyptians worshipped cats, you know. They were considered divine.”
“Yeah, well, we ain’t in Egypt.” His tone was gruff, but I still caught him giving Salem soft looks whenever she brushed his ankles.
I laughed, reaching for the cinnamon. “You don’t actually believe black cats are bad luck. You’re just using it as an excuse.”
His hands stilled on the mixer. “An excuse for what?”
“For keeping your distance. From things that might matter.”
His eyes met mine, that steel-blue that seemed to shift shades with his mood. Today they were almost gray. He didn’t deny my observation.
Binx chose that moment to leap onto the counter, making Chains flinch. “Get your damn cat off the food prep area,” he said, but there was no real heat in his voice. And we’d been done for a while. There was only that one batch of cookies in the oven but everything else was done.
“Binx, down,” I said firmly. The cat meowed, then ignored me, as usual. All three cats seemed to know exactly when I was finished with cooking anything and never did more than streak through the kitchen or rub my ankles. Once they knew I was done, though, all bets were off. Chains reached out and gently scooped Binx up, depositing him on the floor with surprising care for someone who claimed to dislike cats. “I swear, I have no idea how they keep getting out of the apartment. They’re like tiny Houdinis. How many batches have we done?” he asked, changing the subject as he washed the last of the cupcake and icing bowls.
“Four dozen cupcakes, six dozen cookies. The fall festival at the park is tomorrow, and I promised the kids something special.” I piped the last of the orange frosting onto a cooled cupcake, adding tiny candy corn eyes to make it look like a pumpkin.
“You’re good at that,” Chains said, watching me work.
“Years of practice. Halloween’s been my thing since I was a kid.”
The kitchen door swung open, and Hawk strolled in, making a beeline for the freshly cooled cookies on the rack. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned without looking up.
“Fuckin’ pumpkin fuckin’ spice every-fuckin’-where,” he grumbled, but still snagged a cookie and stuffed it whole into his mouth. “Worth it,” he mumbled around crumbs before grinning and chugging beer he had in his hand to wash down the cookie. Then he dropped a quick kiss on the top of my head before leaving.
I felt Chains stiffen beside me. “They do that a lot,” he observed. “Treat you like a little sister.”
“Is that weird for you?” I asked, genuinely curious.
He shrugged, pouring batter into cupcake liners. “No.” Then he frowned. “Maybe? I don’t know.”
“Well, that’s pretty vague.” I brushed my hands on my apron before untying it from around my waist and removing the neck strap. “Maybe I’m just that lovable,” I teased, bumping his hip with mine.
“Maybe you are at that.” The words were soft, almost reluctant, but they made my heart flutter all the same.