Chapter 43 #2
Marcus chuckled, his eyes finding the knife with amusement crinkling the edges. “Going to take me out, final girl?”
I blinked, my face heating at least half from embarrassment, the other half keenly aware of the thin strip of hair brushing along his belly from his low-slung sweat pants.
"Sorry, I guess I'm still a bit jumpy,” I muttered, closing the knife and stowing it back into my pocket.
“You screamed,” he pointed out, eyes moving to the open door of Cameo’s office. “Playing a game?”
“No,” I grumbled, slamming the door a little harder than was necessary. “You know that freak has a bunch of maggots on his desk?”
The alpha’s face screwed up in disgust. “Fucking weirdo… You okay? You don’t like bugs, right?”
I shook my head, pouting as I made my way down the hall towards him. “Why, why, does Cameo have the entirety of A Bug’s Life in his room? How the fuck does he sleep?”
“I’m not sure he does,” Marcus said, catching my hip with his free hand. “Just pretends until it’s socially acceptable to be up and about again, or something.”
"Speaking of, what are you doing?" I asked, flicking off the hall light and letting the alpha lead me into the kitchen with him. “Run out of baby powder?”
“What?” Marcus asked with a light laugh.
I nodded to the bag of flour in his hand as he released me to return to what he was doing, setting the bag on the counter to quickly wash his hands.
"Oh, I’m making bread," he said. “Baby powder, funny. I’ll remember that one.”
"At two in the morning?"
He nodded. "Judith was fed yesterday, and I need to use her before she deflates."
"Judith?"
He gestured to the jar on the counter. It was a glass mason jar with white goo inside. "My sourdough starter."
"Oh," I'd seen a lot of people start those a few years ago, but it always seemed too technical for me. "I didn't know you made bread.
"Every week," he said. "I normally make it today, but there were other things going on."
There certainly were. "Sorry to disturb your bread-making day."
"It's okay, it was more Indi than anyone."
I scrunched my brow. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head. "Nothing, just had to run an errand."
"Can I watch?" I asked.
"I don't mind."
I climbed up on the kitchen island across from him as he finished gathering his ingredients.
He placed a large bowl on a scale and started dumping ingredients into it and stirring them together.
It was hard to keep track with him doing it so quickly, but soon he was dumping out all the contents onto the counter and kneading.
His arm muscles flexed as he pressed against the dough in quick, repetitive motions. I didn't know this could be so attractive, but damn, watching someone knead bread hot.
"Can I try?" I asked.
"Try what?"
"Kneading the bread."
He looked at it for a second. "Sure."
I hopped down and started walking around, but he said, "Wash your hands first," before I made it too far.
After washing twice, since apparently the first time wasn't long enough, Marcus stood aside and let me stand in front of the mostly formed dough.
"Have you ever done this before?" he asked.
"No."
"Okay. You want to do it like this to build the gluten structure."
He stood next to me, our arms touching with how close he got. Marcus demonstrated by pressing the dough forward with his hands, stretching it before pulling it back towards himself, and repeating the process.
"I think I got it."
I positioned my hands on the dough the same as him and gave it a press. I was surprised at how much tension there was, considering Marcus looked like he was moving it with ease.
It didn't take long for my arms to tire and it to feel difficult. "How long do you have to do this for?"
"Ten to fifteen minutes," he said.
"Damn, I don't think I can do that."
He smiled. "It takes getting used to."
I tried for a few more minutes, but my arms quickly gave out. "I think I'm all done."
"I've got it," he said.
I backed off and let him knead the dough, but stayed close the way we were. He didn't seem to mind as he kept going. It wasn't clear to me what made him stop, but once he seemed satisfied, he scooped it all back into the bowl, covered it in plastic wrap, and left it on the counter.
He then proceeded to wash everything alarmingly fast. Before I knew it, the entire kitchen was as spotless as it always was.
"Can you just put the flour back in the pantry?" he asked. "It's obvious where it goes once you're in there."
"Can do," I said, picking up the jar and walking it towards the pantry. When I turned the light on and looked, I was so shocked I almost dropped the flour.
I'd never seen something so perfectly organized. There wasn't anything in there that didn't have a place, or a container with its own special label. Shelves and shelves of organized baking goods, spices, and snacks. I'd never seen anything like it.
And he was right, there was a single gap in the second shelf that this jar obviously fit in. I slotted it in its place.
"Find it okay?" Marcus asked, making me jump.
"Yeah," I said. "It's very… organized in here."
"Good, that means Joon hasn't gotten his hands on it."
"What does that mean?"
He sighed, though the slight smile that touched his lips was clear. "Joon enjoys coming in here and moving my stuff around."
"Why?"
"To mess with me."
I smiled. "Sounds like him."
There was a loud clicking sound I wasn't expecting that made me jump. I practically leaped into Marcus' arms, my heart beating so quickly I could hear it in my ears.
He placed his arms around me. "It's okay, it's just the water heater. You can hear it knocking in here sometimes."
I nodded against his chest. "You're right. Sorry, I'm just feeling a little jumpy."
"That's understandable," he said. "Do you want to come sleep in my room?"
"Is that okay?" I asked.
He kissed me on the forehead, which I wasn't expecting. "Of course it is."