“Me too,” Quinn confessed, then he frowned. “Have you eaten today?”
“No. I was too anxious this morning, and we blew through lunch.”
Quinn dished up a large plate of pasta and put it in front of Cade. “That won’t happen again. You’ll be eating three meals a day.”
“I don’t eat breakfast,” Cade mumbled around a mouthful of pasta. “Christ, this is good.”
Quinn’s glower deepened. “You’ll eat breakfast while you’re in my charge.”
“I really don’t want food when I get up.”
“How long are you going to be in the studio tomorrow?” Quinn demanded.
Cade shrugged. “Eight, ten hours.”
“You’ll eat before you go in, and I’ll provide lunch for you and the band.”
“It’s really not—”
The growl told Cade to shut the hell up. He focused on his pasta. It was really very good.
Chapter 4
Quinn
Quinn watched in approval as Cade shoveled down a second helping of pasta smothered in Quinn’s grandpa’s secret sauce. The boy was too skinny and now that he’d found out Cade forgot to eat, Quinn understood why.
“More?” he asked, as Cade sat back in his seat and rubbed his belly.
“I couldn’t eat another mouthful,” Cade confessed. “That sauce was amazing. Where did you buy it?”
“I made it. My grandpa’s recipe.”
“Wow, I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.” Cade furrowed his brow as if he was trying to pin it down.
“Strada didn’t cook for you?”
“Eric didn’t cook. We ate out or got takeout. I didn’t mind. I was busy all the time.” Cade obviously didn’t realize how wistful he sounded or the longing glances he shot at the remaining pasta.
Quinn had to hold back his growl. Cooking was one of the things he loved doing for his boys, even those who were just passing through. He’d always fed and nurtured them. Just exactly what had Strada brought to their relationship except his fists and cock?
“I’ll make meals to put in your freezer. You’ll have home-cooked food when you come back from London.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Quinn insisted. “If we had time, I’d teach you to cook.”
Cade shook his head. “I’m hopeless at cooking. Eric tried to make me cook until he realized it was hopeless and quit spanking my ass.”
The growl came then. Quinn couldn’t hold it back.
“Quinn?” Cade asked uncertainly.
“Teaching my boys to cook is one of my greatest pleasures. I don’t spank them for bad meals. That’s my failure for not showing you properly. When we cook together, you’ll be rewarded for getting it right.”
It was only Cade’s comically wide eyes that made him realize he’d gone from ‘my boys’ to ‘you’, and suggested he would be around to teach Cade. He huffed and ended with a lame, “My boys like cooking.”
The silence stretched out between them until Cade spoke. “I’d like that.”
Like what? Being taught how to cook? Or being Quinn’s boy?
“Cade—”
Cade got to his feet. “I need to sleep.”
He went to leave the kitchen, but fortunately Quinn’s brain caught up with what was happening.
“Take your plate to the dishwasher.”
Cade turned at the order. “What?”
“You need to take your plate to the dishwasher.”
“But—”
“Plate. Dishwasher. Now,” Quinn said flatly.
Cade looked astonished. “This is my house.”
“I’m not your servant.”
“I’m your client.”
“I cooked for you, and I expect you to help me clear up.”
Quinn waited to see what Cade would do. Was he going to obey, or would he balk? Judging by the look on Cade’s face, it could go either way. Cade scowled at him, his fists clenching, then he picked up his bowl, and stomped over to the dishwasher to put it in. Quinn winced at the force he used, hoping the bowl didn’t shatter. Cade stomped out of the kitchen, and Quinn let him go, although it went against every instinct in him.
He looked at the way the bowl was jammed in the dishwasher. It was obvious Cade had never loaded it before. Had Strada done that or did he have a maid? Quinn made a note on his phone to ask Dominic about it, if Cade was still throwing a tantrum tomorrow. Then he finished loading the dishwasher and set it going, placed the empty food in a storage container to go in the fridge when it was cool enough, and made himself a coffee. If Cade wanted one, he’d have to come back into the kitchen.
He needed to call his friend in San Francisco, but it wasn’t a conversation he wanted Cade to overhear. He’d wait until Cade was settled in the studio before he called Leo.
First, he needed to find his errant client. From the noise, he was sure Cade had gone up the stairs, but he would check once he’d made sure all the windows and doors were locked. He also checked in with Tormac, who ran the evening team, and whistled to Mogs who opened one eye, got up lazily and stretched one leg at a time. Then he scooped her under his arm, flicked off the lights, and headed upstairs. He saw a light under Cade’s door plus he heard noise that sounded like a movie from the gunfire and explosions.
Quinn did the same check on the second floor to make sure all the windows were locked. Then he knocked on Cade’s door. There was a sudden silence as the movie was muted, but nothing else happened. He contemplated knocking again when the door opened.
“Hey.” Cade was dressed in plaid pajama pants and a tight white T-shirt.
Quinn nearly swallowed his tongue. The T-shirt exposed the ink and showed off the tight compact muscles that had been hidden before. The urge to throw Cade on the bed, strip off his clothes, and follow those muscles with his tongue was one he was going to have to keep in check.
“Just making sure you’re okay,” he said.
Cade avoided his eyes. “I’m fine.”
Quinn waited, but Cade didn’t say anything else. “I need to check your windows, then I’ll leave you alone.”
Cade stepped back. “Be my guest.”
On impulse, Quinn handed him Mogs who chirruped happily at being in Cade’s arms, then he checked the windows and the balcony doors. Satisfied, he turned back to find Cade on the bed, Mogs nestled in the crook of his crossed legs.
He sighed. “Have I lost my cat?”
Cade gave him an oddly sweet but also mischievous grin. “Maybe.”
“I’m going to bed. If she becomes a pain dump her in with me.”
“She’ll be fine,” Cade said, scratching behind her ears.
Maybe he was a little piqued that Mogs obviously preferred Cade to the man who had fed her for the past fourteen years, but he’d get over it…in time. Whatever kept his client calm worked for him. He said goodnight and shut the door behind him.
In his own room he checked in with the team once more.
“It’s fine. Same as it was five minutes ago,” Tormac snarked.
“Call me—”