“Maybe she’s not here,” I said, some hope in my voice as we waited and waited. “Maybe she’s gone out and?—”
“Oh!” The door swung open and the other girl stood there. Was it Darla? Her smile, when it appeared, was sly. “Hey, Harp, your handy… men have arrived. They look like they’ve got all the tools you need.”
“Let them in!”
Harper’s voice was muffled, distant, and yet I found myself drifting across her threshold like some sucker bespelled by a witch. Stepping inside it was a typical small yet neat apartment.
“So did you guys want a beer, wine, my best friend spread out on the table to feast upon?”
All three of us reacted the same way, choking back a strangled groan. Darla grinned and then sauntered off into theapartment to retrieve Harper. She emerged looking damp, pink, obviously fresh from the shower, and that’s when my control shattered. I wanted to be the one to make those cheeks flush, her skin damp, after I’d wrung orgasm after orgasm out of her until her voice was hoarse from screaming.
“Hey.” Harper rubbed her hair with a towel. “Oh my god, that food smells amazing.”
“Best and most authentic Indian food in the whole city,” Tor said, hefting up the bag. “Let me know where the plates and bowls are, and I’ll start dishing it up.”
“Everything OK, Mack?” Kieran asked me in a low voice.
No, I wanted to shout. I wanted to be the one to make small talk with Harper as the two of them moved around the kitchen. I wanted to talk her through each dish so I could work out what she liked and disliked. I wanted to trade little smiles with her as they set up dinner. I wanted to take Harper’s bowl from her, sit down with her on my lap, and hand feed each mouthful to her so I could secondhand savour every bite. Instead, I shook my head and met his stare.
“Never better,” I said. “Now go and talk to your mate and I’ll check the walls out.”
Anything other than sit down and stare at her like she was my last meal, not the Indian food.
Chapter 5
"Oh…”
Our tiny kitchen was fine when it was just Daria and me. We were rarely in at the same time anyway, unless it was pre-game drinking before we went out. Apparently, me and one massive guy was one person too many, because when I stepped back, toting some bowls, it was into Tor’s arms. They closed around me for a second and I got to experience the very unique pleasure of a shifter getting up close and personal.
Was he sniffing me? Was this something shifters do, like when dogs sniff each other’s butts? I looked up hesitantly to see the brightest smile known to man staring down at me. Those green eyes sparkled as he took the bowls from me, setting them on the bench before using the serving spoon I’d found in the depths of our kitchen drawer to start dishing up food.
“What’s your pleasure?”
So not only did Tor have pretty kitty cat green eyes, but he could purr like a cat as well, shooting me a sidelong look that made clear he somehow had heard my entire internal monologue.
“Umm… what?” I squeaked out.
“What dishes do you like?” If Tor was all graceful swagger, Kieran was a massive, solid presence. He’d be almost restful to be around if his biceps didn’t pop as he leaned on the other side of the kitchen bench. “Tor likes his vindaloo viciously hot.”
“Yeah, none of that.” I turned around, trying to reach the glasses on the top shelf, only for Kieran to walk around and retrieve them. He set four of them on the counter as I went to the fridge. “I’ve got work tomorrow and running to the loo all day is not on the cards.”
“So what do you do for a quid, Harper?” Kieran asked, yet somehow he wasn’t the only one listening. Mack the Grumpy paused midway through measuring the wall, not bothering to consult with me at all. He might have his back to us, but it was clear he was listening.
“I work at a cafe out in the industrial area,” I replied, not really wanting to go into the details.
“Which industrial area?” Suddenly Mack stopped waving his tape measure around. “Not the one up north?”
“Which one up north?” I countered with a grin.
Thing was, I worked exactly where he feared. The north of the city had a bit of reputation, sometimes warranted, sometimes not. The part I worked in definitely could be a worry. If we didn’t finish our shifts at 3PM every day, I wouldn’t have taken the job. No lingering around once all the workshops were closed down for the day for me.
“Salisbury,” he said, crossing his arms. The seams of that plaid shirt of his were fighting a losing battle. Those muscles were popping about as hard as his expression.
“Yeah, but?—”
Before I could launch into a spirited defence of my workplace, Daria came back out into the living area, dressed forsomething other than eating Indian food and checking out the hot tradies standing in our kitchen.
“Daria…” I sidled over with a stiff smile. “Where are you off to?”
