The old and grumpy cat kneaded Cade’s thighs with her paws and settled back down to sleep, perfectly content.
Cade rubbed behind her ears and the purring settled into a deep rumble. “I had an old and grumpy cat just like Mogs before I got the kitten.”
Quinn was afraid to ask. “What happened to it?”
“He died of old age. The cat was the same age as me. He was in my last foster home. They didn’t want him, so I took Tigs with me when I left. I missed having a cat so I got another tabby kitten.”
“Charlie.”
“Yeah.” Cade sounded heartbroken.
If Cade had been his boy, Quinn would have wrapped himself around him, to comfort him. But he wasn’t, and there was a line Quinn couldn’t cross.
Cade
Cade needed to be held so much it hurt. It was one of the things he really missed about Eric, at least the way he’d been in the beginning. There had come a point when Cade had begun to dread his embrace because of what followed. He pushed those memories from his mind. Maybe when he returned from London, he could get a new cat.
“Cade.”
He looked up, not realizing for a moment Quinn was so close. “Yes?”
Had Quinn understood how much he needed a hug?
“We need to work out a plan for the next two weeks.”
Disappointment slammed into Cade like a freight train, and he lashed out. “My management company has the details. I haven’t got time to waste on trivialities with the muscle.” He took pleasure in seeing Quinn’s expression darken. “I’ve got work to do.”
“You cleared your schedule for today.”
“Yeah, well, now it’s uncleared.”
He stalked out of the kitchen and headed toward the studio. He hoped, he prayed Quinn would call him back, discipline him for being a grade A brat, but nothing happened. A tear ran down his cheek and he dashed it away angrily. He wasn’t going to give Quinn the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He was the client. He was an adult. He was a boy without a Daddy. He didn’t need a goddamn cat.
Cade stood in the middle of the studio, not really sure what to do. He was prepared for the event next week. The band was getting together because they loved playing, and any excuse was better than not being loud and noisy.
But he was on his own, and the idea of playing the songs for the gig didn’t really appeal to him. Cade picked up his acoustic guitar and sat down on a stool. He picked out a chord. He hated when he was like this, his mind jumping all over the place, anger coursing through his veins. He used to be like this as a kid, acting out. It wouldn’t be long before he’d find himself moving to a new home because they couldn’t handle him, as he wasn’t a ‘good’ kid. More tears threatened to spill but he forced them back. That part of his life was over. He’d moved on and this was his home. He didn’t have to be good for anyone. Certainly not for muscle he barely knew.
He picked out the chords to a song he’d written when he was fourteen and lost in his own head, scared of knowing he was gay and anyone finding out. He snorted. Being gay was the least of his worries, although he didn’t know that then.
Cade closed his eyes and started to play, muscle memory taking over as he played a tune he hadn’t thought of in years, fumbling a little at the words, but the notes etched in his mind forever. He came to the end too soon, flattening his palm against the strings.
“That was beautiful.”
Struggling to come back to the real world, he opened his eyes at Quinn’s praise. “It was crap.” He was always brutally honest about his music and art.
Quinn stood in the doorway of the studio. Cade hadn’t heard him come in: he’d been so lost in his music. Even in his fugue state he still couldn’t miss how gorgeous Quinn was, tall and broad-shouldered, lean waist and long legs. When he’d turned up in leather at CDR, Cade could have come on the spot.
“No,” Quinn contradicted, “it was heartfelt. I’ll leave you to your practice. I just wanted to check you were okay.”
Cade wanted to snarl, to tell him to fuck off, just to see what reaction he’d get. But instead he managed a short “Thanks.”
Quinn nodded and vanished, closing the door with a quiet snap, leaving Cade staring, wondering what just happened there.
“Keep it together, Connolly,” he muttered.
He stayed in the studio until his fingertips were bleeding, and his stomach growled at him loud enough that he remembered he hadn’t eaten that day. It didn’t matter. That was what takeout was for.
The aroma that greeted him as he walked toward the kitchen made his belly almost cramp, it smelled so good.
Quinn looked up from stirring a large pan of red sauce as he walked in. “Good. I was about to fetch you.”
“You cook?” Cade bent down to scratch Mogs who’d appeared with a chirrup. She stalked away and curled up in a small nest of blankets, clearly satisfied with the attention she’d received.
“I like cooking,” Quinn said. “I don’t get much opportunity being on the road. I always cook at home. I was making pasta for myself tonight, so I brought it with me.”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“I know. I checked the file. I am too.”
Cade stared at him. “You?”
Quinn chuckled. “You expected me to eat steak and all the fixin’s?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I make a mean baked potato,” Quinn assured him. “Now wash your hands and sit down.”
Wash his hands? Was he five?
“Yes, Mom,” he said snidely.
Then he caught the fire in Quinn’s eyes and swallowed. Oh shit, he’d woken the Daddy, and Daddy was not pleased.
“Wash your hands or you don’t get dinner,” Quinn said.
Cade raised an eyebrow. “You know this is my house, right? I can call for takeout.”
“Last chance, Cade.”
Quinn turned back to stir the sauce. He didn’t even wait to see if Cade obeyed. That was more mortifying than if he’d stood there, watching what Cade would do. He expected Cade to obey him.
Cade chewed on his bottom lip. Dammit. He went to the sink and did as he was told. Not because he wanted to obey Quinn, but he was so hungry.
“Good boy,” Quinn praised as Cade dried his hands.
“Not your boy,” Cade said automatically, but inwardly he glowed under the praise.
Quinn ignored that. “Sit down. I’m going to deliver the team’s dinners and I’ll be back.”
“You cooked for the security team?”
“Of course. It’s a long day for them.”
He said it so matter of factly, Cade just blinked. Quinn was not like any bodyguard he’d ever had before. All the bodyguards he met lived on takeout. Quinn was a Daddy, which made the nurturing aspect understandable but even so, he’d never met a bodyguard who cooked.
Quinn picked up four covered plates and flatware and left the kitchen. Cade sat there, stomach rumbling from the delicious aroma. He was tempted to serve himself, but he didn’t want to imagine the consequences if he did.
He heard voices, then the sound of the door shutting again. Quinn returned and went to wash his hands.
“I’m really hungry,” Cade said plaintively.