Chapter 22 #2
He flushed a beautiful crimson and, wooo-eee, did I like that.
“I do not like being stalked,” he insisted.
Little liar. “But, babe, location services are my love language.”
The expression in his gray eyes loosened, and those kissable lips separated with his indrawn breath. “They are?” he whispered, pitch going up a little at the end.
Unable to resist the impoverished but hopeful tone, I dragged him into my lap to cuddle him. It was virtually impossible not to.
A soft sound left his lips, and I pushed his head down against my chest.
“When it comes to you? Yes,” I replied, carding my fingers through his blond strands.
“But if I’m stalking you, I can’t be beside you.
” I threaded my other fingers through his.
“I can’t hold your hand. Most people aren’t supposed to know I’m there, but you?
I want you to know.” I want to be all over you even if I shouldn’t.
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed. “So why don’t you just do me a favor and tell me everything I need to know?”
“I thought you wanted to know about Tommy.”
“I do. For instance, did Tommy get you into drugs?”
His head popped up, eyes glinting with accusation and hurt. “You seriously think I’m an addict?”
“No,” I admitted. “But Kieran—”
“Kieran thinks I’m an addict!” he wailed. Dropping his head into his hand, he rubbed his forehead. “Is that why he was being so weird about the pills earlier?”
“Kieran’s weird all the time. But yeah, he’s concerned.”
“Because I’m best friends with Haz. He thinks I’m going to corrupt him.” Rett’s voice was flat as he swung his legs over the side of the couch and tried to stand from my lap.
We all know I couldn’t allow that.
“Let me go,” he deadpanned.
“I’d rather not.”
“Well, I’d rather everyone not think I’m a freaking drug addict!” he yelled and stomped on my bare foot. I howled, and he scrambled away. For someone so small, he had a good stomp on him.
I stood, wanting to ask the little hellion where he thought he was gonna go. There was nowhere to hide in this shoebox. Instead, I closed the distance between us, and he spun from the counter, holding a bowl.
“Stay where you are, or I’ll clobber you with his half-eaten bowl of soggy cereal.”
You know, that reminded me. I could go for a snack. “What kind?”
He seemed surprised I would ask. I mean, if he was gonna toss it at me, he could at least tell me what to expect.
“Raisin Bran,” he replied. “And Tommy’s saliva will be all over that,” he threatened while gesturing to my bare chest.
Ewww. Hell no. “What the hell was he doing eating your cereal?” I bellowed. “And why the hell did you buy Raisin Bran?” There were so many better choices.
“It has fruit,” Rett said as though it were obvious.
Insufficient evidence.
Rett’s lower lip wobbled, and oh my damn, my heart was weak. “It was my last box.” His voice was small, eyes liquid.
I was going to kill that cereal-thieving asshole, and I would enjoy it. Maybe I’d use his veins as shoelaces.
“All right now, baby.” I soothed him, taking a small step forward. The spoon clanked against the bowl when he jerked back.
“I’ll do it,” he warned.
“You know what? If splattering me with some saliva-drenched confetti makes you feel better, then go off, I guess. I can take one for the team.” Anything to get that look off his face.
I hoped I didn’t get dia-bunga-beetus and die, but I didn’t say that part out loud. I didn’t think it would contribute to the conversation.
His eyes narrowed when I took another step. He looked like a cornered animal, one about to go feral. It made me think how, just moments ago, he’d told me how tired he was.
I sagged, dropped my hands, and stepped back. “You know what? Wait here,” I said and jogged to the front door to fling it open.
He made a small sound, but I disappeared into the hall.
“I didn’t mean it!” Rett called, and my bare feet stuttered on the floor.
He was literally going to be the death of me.
Stepping back into the doorway, I noted how he was shifting from foot to foot, anxiety riding his features, while cradling that nasty bowl in front of him.
“For shit’s sake, put that already-been-chewed trash in the sink and get away from it,” I ordered. “You’re going to get dia-bunga-beetus.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s of the butthole,” I deadpanned.
He looked horrified.
Good.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” I said after he thankfully put down the bowl.
“Are you leaving?” he rushed to ask, worry ripe in his tone.
I turned back yet again. This was why I preferred to stalk people. It was so much easier. Quieter too.
“I’m not going anywhere, Pip,” I promised gently. “I left something out in the hall earlier. I’m just going to grab it.”
“What is it?”
Why wasn’t he this interested in talking when I wanted answers?
“A present for you.”
His eyes rounded, and I took the opportunity to dash down the hall and into the stairwell. I honestly expected to see the rat king and his minions preparing to battle for their loot.
But the gods smiled upon me this day because, look at that, it was untouched and exactly where I’d left it.
After scooping up the items, I turned back to see my snack-sized snoop peaking around his door frame like some kind of poor excuse for a detective.
Pushing the items behind me, I strolled down the hall, and he moved back to let me inside. Once there, we stood facing each other with the door still wide open.
“That’s really for me?” he asked, trying to peek around my back.
I nodded. “That’s why I came back. To give this to you. I didn’t like how we left things earlier.”
“You mean how you pitched my creamer out of the cab and didn’t even look back?”
Guess that meant he was still mad about it. Valid. I inhaled through my nose. Let it be known that I despise creamer packets. Loathe them entirely. Everything they represented was shit I wanted to forget.
With that being said, I realized they represented something else altogether to Pip.
“What was it you called them again?” I said quietly. “Hugs?”
He nodded. “Liquid hugs.”
You see why I hate them, right? His life was so terrible that he likened little plastic cups filled with oil and chemicals to comforting hugs.
Despicable.
Deplorable.
I might go burn down a creamer factory.
And as abysmal as it was, it made me worse because he’d offered me something he viewed as his only source of comfort, and I tossed it into the street.
Even for a villainous man like me, it was too much.
Clearing my throat, I looked into his eyes. “It was wrong of me to throw your creamer out the window.” Things I never thought I’d say for a thousand. Focus! “It was all you had, and you handed it over like it was no big deal. I was just frustrated you carry them. I wish you didn’t have to.”
His lips rolled in and then popped back out. “Thank you, Hiro.”
“So here,” I said, pulling out the two boxes from behind my back and thrusting them between us. “I got you these to try and make up for my… bad behavior.”