Chapter 26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Kieran
You ever feel like you’re being watched?
Nine out of ten times, it’s because you are.
In this case, I was definitely being stared at. So hard I was surprised I didn’t have a hole in my face. I didn’t like being stared at, but I hated talking more.
It might come as a surprise, but I’m not much of a sharer. Fine. I’m a greedy bastard. You know what being open and sharing things got me in the past? Of course you do because last night I outtalked a parrot on espresso.
It was easier and a hell of a lot less exhausting just to keep my mouth shut. It burned a lot of energy trying to explain to someone why I am the way I am.
Why does it even matter? This is how I am. Deal with it.
Couldn’t really say that to Hazard, though. Hence why I was still lying here feigning sleep. I knew the second I opened my eyes, he’d start asking me five million questions.
Last night, we’d only talked about me. I still had to tell him what was in that file Ghost gave me.
What a fucking shit show.
Although, he took the news of me being a hitman better than I thought he would. So maybe he’d take this news in stride too. Still, I was worried because finding out something about someone else was different than finding out secrets about yourself.
His mother dumped him outside a hospital. I was a hard man and didn’t care much for kids, but even I would have a tough time doing something like that. What a mindfuck that must be to a kid. Abandoned by your own mother. Left alone in the world.
I wanted to hate his mother… and I mostly did. But part of me understood because of what I knew.
Beside me, Hazard fidgeted.
Inwardly, I sighed. Shit show supervisor reporting for duty. “I must be a museum exhibit with the way you’re staring,” I groused, not even opening my eyes.
“Have you ever refused a job?”
My eyes flew open. “What?”
“Have they ever asked you to kill someone and you said no?”
“I haven’t even had any coffee yet,” I complained, scrubbing a hand over my face.
“I’ll make you some,” Haz volunteered, sliding out of bed before I could stop him. “Are you allowed to turn down a job, or is that, like, forbidden?” He wondered. “I really need to get some clothes,” he jabbered on. “Yours are nice, but they’re too big.”
He disappeared into the bathroom and came back a few minutes later, buttoning one of my fresh shirts. This one was blue.
If you asked me, the clothes he wore around here were just fine.
“I hope you don’t have one of those fancy coffee machines because I don’t know how to work them,” he prattled from the foot of the bed and then turned to go.
Yelling, I leaped up. “Hazard!”
If he broke my espresso maker, I didn’t care how cute he looked in my clothes. There’d be hell to pay.
After pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants, I stormed from the bedroom, expecting to find my two-thousand-dollar Breville on fire. It might have been less than a minute, but I had every faith a little hazard like him could manage it.
A horrible squeal, followed by a dragging sound, had me practically running. See? Walking chaos.
“What in the hell are you doing?” I asked, expecting to find him in the kitchen with a destroyed appliance in his fist, but no, he wasn’t even in the kitchen.
He was dragging a barstool from the island into the living room.
He barely paused as he continued to haul it across my custom flooring. “I promised Cliff and Atlas I’d find them a new home.”
My eye twitched. “And why do you need the barstool in my living room for that?”
The abuse to my floor stopped, and Haz glanced over his shoulder. I’m sure he was looking at me, but his hair was so wild it obstructed the view.
“Do you ever brush your hair?” I inquired.
He shrugged. “Not since I lost my hairbrush.”
A strained sound ripped from my throat. “You lost your brush?”
“Probably going to be even harder to find now with the state of my apartment,” he answered, going back to dragging the stool.
“Hazard.”
He stopped again. “Do you have a plant stand?”
“No.”
“Another reason you’re a terrible plant daddy.”
One of the legs got caught on the living room rug, and he nearly pitched forward. I stood there gaping as he got into a literal tug-of-war with the rug over the chair.
The shirt he wore wasn’t buttoned to the top, and in his fight, it slid to the side, revealing his creamy shoulder marked with my hickey. Seeing that mark had my groin tightening and thoughts of last night filling my head.
Haz cried out and pulled his bandaged hand back.
Forgetting sex, I strode across the room and plucked the stool off the ground completely and turned to go put it back where it belonged.
“Over here please,” Hazard interrupted.
“That’s not where it goes.”
“But, Kieran, I promised them.”
I was a fucking schmuck because the soft plea in his voice had me rotating and carrying the damned stool to where he pointed. The second I set it down, he nodded happily and raced into the kitchen out of sight.
“Don’t touch my coffeemaker,” I barked.
Seconds later, he returned, both plants clutched to his chest. Getting dirt all over my shirt and the floor.
“This is ridiculous.” I seethed.
He ignored me and went about arranging the two plants on the stool as if they were priceless statues in some fancy museum.
He fussed and clucked his tongue, arranging them this way and that. Fawning over their leaves, which had perked up in the last few days, and praising them for enduring the “harsh” living conditions I’d subjected them to.
“You’re pissing me off,” I declared, folding my arms over my chest.
His nose wrinkled, and he waved me away. “Take your toxic vibes away from these chlorophyll cuties. Can’t you see they’re starting to thrive?”
The audacity. “This is my house.”
Haz looked up, mismatched eyes nearly marooning my heart. “Would you like us to leave?”
“I’m making coffee,” I replied, leaving him to his antics and stomping into the kitchen.
“Better make a double.”
The entire time I worked, my ears strained to hear every soft, kind word he said to those green goblins. Frankly, I thought it was absurd that he talked to them like they understood. It was a waste of that sweet voice. Especially when he could be in here using it on me.
Instead, I got have you ever refused a job and would you like us to leave.
I kept my back turned when he stepped into the kitchen, concentrating on pouring myself a mug of freshly made brew.
His arms slid around my waist from behind, his cheek pressed against my bare back. My throat closed, and my grip on the carafe tightened, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I finished pouring and then took that first heavenly sip.
Oddly, it wasn’t as blissful as usual, which made me take another sip, wondering if I’d used bad beans or something. No. The coffee was perfect, just the way I liked it.
So then why was that first sip not hitting like it always did?
Because you found something better.
I wasn’t entertaining that thought because it wasn’t true.
The arms around me tightened, his cheek rubbing against me like a cat. “Thank you for letting me use the stool until I can get them a plant stand.”
A measly apology.
Haz lifted his face and kissed the center of my back. The simple peck echoed down the length of my spine.
“I’ll make you some French toast,” I said.
“Can I help?”
“No.”
“Can I watch?”
“Fine.”
Keeping his arms around me, he circled my body until we were chest to chest. “Lift me up on the counter.”
“There are chairs across the room,” I said. “Unless you stole those too.”
“I won’t be able to see from way over there.”
It was hardly way over there, but the way he clung to me was making me weak, and it was sort of adorable that he wanted to watch me cook. Plus, the folder with all the secrets I’d yet to spill was right there on the island.
Setting aside my mug, I lifted him easily, plopping his ass on the counter. “This is unsanitary.”
In response, he wrapped his legs around my waist and pulled me in. “I thought you liked good-morning kisses.”
Planting my palms on the counter, I leaned into his upturned face and found that feeling I usually only got when that first sip of morning coffee hit my soul.
Moaning, I wrapped my arms around him, clutching him close as the kiss deepened.
Aromatic coffee flavored my tongue and soon his as they passionately twisted together.
His legs quivered lightly at my waist, and his ankles locked behind my back.
I leaned in, arching him over my arms. His fingers dug into the muscles of my back as the open-mouthed kiss went on.
I was tempted to just fuck him right there on the counter, forget breakfast. Forget everything.
But that would be dangerous.
I drew back slowly, hungry kisses turning to nibbles, then soft pecks, and finally, I lifted my head.
Hazard’s cheeks were fuchsia, eyes a bit dazed and lips plump.
“Baby doll,” I murmured for no reason other than I wanted to.
He smiled.
Groaning, I forced myself back, taking my coffee along to gather the ingredients to make French toast.
The bread was soaking up the egg mixture when he spoke. “So have you ever refused a job?”
“One,” I said, not turning around. I couldn’t let the bread get too soggy. Then I’d have to start over, which would be a complete waste of ingredients.
“Really?” Hazard replied in a tone that implied he smelled gossip.
I transferred the bread to the griddle, and the scent of vanilla filled the room as it began to cook.
“When was that? What happened? Why did you say no?” he pressed.
I flipped the toast over, admiring the golden-brown color, and reached for my mug. After a fortifying sip, I turned to look at my boyfriend—something I never planned to have but would now burn the world down to keep. “About that,” I began, knowing I couldn’t put it off another minute.