He grinned at her and tossed a hand out to the tray in front of him that was covered in baked pizza dough twisted up with parmesan and bacon that he’d just finished brushing garlic butter over.
“Are you complaining?” he asked.
“Heck no,” she answered, moving back to the island. “Do I get to test-kitchen all your recipes?”
“Absolutely.”
She glanced at the knots. “Then I don’t care who Kristen Ashley is. I’m all for this.”
Mag was grinning again.
And through doing it, he said, “I wanna add your Cinnamon Clusters to my list of recipes.”
“If it’s for charity, go for it,” she offered. “What else are you going to do?”
“Mom’s chocolate chip cookies, my grilled pizza, and these to start.”
Her head jerked, her hair flowing with it.
Yeah, his girl was all kinds of pretty.
“Whoa,” she said. “You’re pulling out the big guns.”
“It’s for charity.”
She was staring at him again, unblinking this time.
And she did it so long, he had no choice but to ask, “What?”
“I really love you, Daniel Magnusson.”
When he heard that, no hesitation, he made a move, doing this toward her.
But her hand flew up his way and she ordered, “Don’t!”
Was she crazy?
Looking at him like that and telling him she loved him, she knew that bought his mouth.
At least.
“Don’t?” he asked, stopping his advance.
She tipped her head to the knots. “Are those fresh out of the oven?”
“Yeah.”
“And do you intend to kiss me right now?”
“Yeah.”
Now she planted her hands on her hips.
“Danny, I know you. I see the look on your face. If you kiss me with that look on your face, we’re totally having sex on the kitchen floor.”
She was totally right.
“And this is a problem?”
She repeated the move of tipping her head to the knots. “Those won’t be warm after sex.”
“I’ll make another batch.”
He could see her shift immediately to considering that.
She wanted to have sex with him on the kitchen floor.
Fuck, he loved this woman.
That meant he finished his move, rounding the corner of the island and pulling her to him with his hand wrapped around the back of her neck.
“One knot,” he murmured, eyes on her mouth, “then we’re having kitchen-floor sex.”
“Deal,” she murmured back.
Oh yeah, she wanted to fuck on the floor.
He reached out and snatched a knot for her.
Then one for him.
She munched, approving with her eyes.
He munched, thinking he didn’t do half bad.
Then they had kitchen-floor sex.
KA
Fast forward one month…
I’m sitting at the table in Fortnum’s with the guys.
And we’re going through Mag’s recipes.
We don’t get through the first one (Cheesy Bacon Knots) before Auggie says, “Didn’t you have sex with Evie in the middle of making those?”
I do a head jerk at the blaze of fire Daniel “Mag” Magnusson aims at Augustus “Auggie” Hero after he says that.
Man, I’m sure glad that look isn’t aimed at me.
Yikes.
“No, it was after, not in the middle,” Axl Pantera puts in smoothly.
Boone Sadler lounges back in his chair, muttering, “So this is how this is gonna go.”
“One hundred percent,” Auggie states.
“Fuck,” Mag says under his breath.
“Gotta give the…what do you call them again?” Auggie asks me.
“Chicklets,” I answer.
“You call your readers Chicklets?” Boone queries.
“Uh, it’s an inside thing,” I tell him.
He clearly wants to know no more because he doesn’t pursue it.
Auggie picks up his thread. “Gotta give the Chicklets their money’s worth.”
“So you guys locker-room talk,” I say, and I gotta admit, I’m kinda disappointed.
“Hell no.” (Axl)
“Fuck no.” (Mag)
“Absolutely not.” (Boone)
“Not on your life.” (Auggie)
This all comes at me at once, and it’s confusing, considering what I just heard.
“So…” I say leadingly.
“I know because Pepper told me,” Aug states.
“And I know because Ryn tells me,” Boone adds.
“Same,” Axl grunts.
Mag just nods his head.
This means Evie spills to her girls.
I start laughing.
“It’s kinda not funny,” Mag points out.
“It’s totally funny,” I disagree. Then add, “So you don’t locker-room talk. But the women do, and you save it up to give each other shit when the time is right.”
“That’s about it,” Mag says.
“What?”
We all jump when this is boomed at us from the vicinity of the espresso machine.
Tex is glaring at us.
Or, more aptly, glaring at the commandos.
He’s also clearly not feeling like making them guess as to why he boomed our way because he continues.
“All you badasses waltz in here and sit down to have a chat, five a’ you, takin’ up space, and only one of you bought a coffee? What do you think this is? A community center?”
He takes a breath, but not a long enough breath for anyone to get a word in before he keeps going.
“No, I’ll answer that. It’s not. Get your butts up here and pay for the privilege of taking the corner table. Outside of the couch, that table is our top spot. Fuckin’ A.”
With that, he stomps the four paces back to the espresso machine.
As he’s stomping, I’m pretty sure I see Da 5 Bloods poster ripple.
And I watch him do this, thinking happily that life can throw some serious shit at you, but in the midst of that, one thing you can rely on is that some things never change.
And that’s a very good thing.
“Guess we have our orders,” Axl says as he pushes his chair back to get up.
The others follow suit.
“You want another?” Boone offers before he heads to the espresso counter.
“That’s sweet, but I’ll save the table and get a refill when you guys get back,” I tell him.
He waits half a beat.
And then, with a different look on his face…
One that I can only describe as a commando look…
No, not only.
It could also be described as a Dom look….
Niiiiice.
He repeats, “Do you want another?”
Well then.
“Uh, sure. A Textual,” I say.
He nods and moves to join the others in line.
I study them as they wait.
Boone is tall, lean, blond, green-eyed, and gorgeous. Classic male beauty. Top to toe.
Mag is even taller, his brows are heavy, his dark hair is messy, his eyes are electric blue. He’s kinda the boy next door with a hotness quotient of 7,550.
Axl has silver hair and striking ice-blue eyes. His features are rugged and there’s an exoticness to him that even surpasses Auggie.