The thought of it makes me murderous.
There are too many other prep cooks coming in and out of the main kitchen for me to do what I’d like to him, but speaking of prep cooking, that happens early, ass-crack of dawn early. He’s already here, even though he didn’t stay over, and even though he got home late from a shift the night before.
He’s a damn spy, but an adorable one, watching my every move. I’ve caught him looking at me in a funny way I can’t put words to, but I think it has to do with his mutterings about conjugal visits. Is he trying to imagine what it would be like to visit me in prison?
I heave two boxes of steaks onto the counter next to him. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Dirk doesn’t look up from where he’s measuring cooked macaroni, but his pause is a half-second too long. “Nothing.”
“Mhm.” I step into his space. Not touching, just close enough to set his nerves on fire. I do that to him, make it hard for him to concentrate. “Dash was conceived in prison, if you were wondering.”
He stills. “You’re joking.”
“I am,” I say with a chuckle. “But couldn’t help myself with all your talk of conjugal visits.”
I raise a challenging brow.You’re so busted, pretty boy.
“I said that once.”
“Twice, and you were picturing it.”
He finally looks up. “Kinda have to, don’t I?”
We’re right beside each other, but he seems so far away. I don’t know whether to be happy or heartbroken that he’s not planning on bolting at the first sign of trouble, because it’s costing him.
“You don’t. You always have a choice, Dirk.” But even as I say the words, I taste the lie. Saying I’d do the right thing and let him go is one thing; actually doing it’s another.
Dirk takes a look around, making sure we’re alone, then back to me, jaw clenched tight enough to grind teeth.
He huffs, throwing his hands up, the baggie of macaroni he was holding slips from his grip and hits the floor with a dull thud. His rage-filled eyes rip me apart in a way only Dirk’s can.
“When are you gonna fucking get it, Trav? You’reitfor me,” he hisses. “Me and you, we’re the fucking end. So yeah, if you go to jail, it’s a lifetime of conjugal visits for us.”
Screw it. I grip his face in one hand and catch his lips with mine, sucking all his breath away. When I pull away, he’s panting, gasping for air.
I rest my forehead against his. “You scare the shit out of me, pretty boy.”
“Yeah? Well, right back at you. Jesus Christ, Travis.”
Travis.My whole name. I’m not out of the doghouse yet, but I didn’t expect to be. All I heard is that he’s not leaving me for anything, though. My chin tips up slightly, and I can breathe deeply again. It feels like I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop, but maybe there aren’t any shoes dropping this time.
Maybe he accepts me.Me.All of me.
There are footsteps, and we jump away from each other as the kitchen door swings open. Just another one of the prep cooks, but it’s Penny, and she’s intuitive enough to be onto us. She rolls her eyes and carries on. She can’t be completely against the idea of me and Dirk if she hasn’t quit or ratted us out, but it’s hard to tell if she’s fully on board. Not that I care either way what she thinks, but I’m curious—is there any chance that some people won’t be fucking assholes about us?
Even Maxwell judges us, and he’s seen much worse than a twenty-year age gap.
Penny enters the walk-in fridge. Dirk leans over. “I’ve got dinner at my brother’s tonight—just reminding you.”
“Oh, so you just remind me now? Is that how this works?” I’m teasing. He’s already given me all his time off requests, which are less “request” when it’s for Dirk, and more “don’t book me for these dates”. But point is, I’ve blocked all that time off for him.
Penny walks out of the fridge carrying a few liters of whipping cream. This time, she raises a smirky brow as she passes by us into the other area of the kitchen, which is separated into another room.
Yeah, she’s onto us. I might need to do damage control.
“Do you, uh, want me to ask you again?” he says, a full fucking flush painting his cheeks red.
I slide behind him, nipping at his ear. Yeah, I’m being risky, but the gooseflesh that washes over his skin is worth it. “I do want you to, know why?”
