Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Trey laughed at Braden, who was staring all moony-eyed in the direction of the bathroom. “Damn, Braden. I’ve never seen you so starstruck. Are you gonna be okay?”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be the same way if Harley Quinn showed up right now. You would lose your shit.”
“Um, yeah… But Harley Quinn is a female, not to mention a comic character. If she was walking around, that would mean that the laws of physics— of everything we know— had been altered. How can an MMA fighter showering in your house compare to that?”
Braden gave him a deadpan look, smacking his lips deliberately. “You really thought that one out, huh?”
“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m logical. You were talking about a comic character coming to life. I would have to suspend a hell of a lot of disbelief in order to have that conversation with you.”
“Who’s Harley Quinn?” Layla asked.
Braden gladly took the opportunity to sell Trey down the river. “She’s the Joker’s girlfriend in the Batman comics, and Trey has a thing for her.”
“That’s an exaggeration.” Trey squirmed and looked over at Layla. Then he added quietly, “She started out on Batman: The Animated Series, not the comics.”
“Oh.” Layla gave him one of her effortless flirty looks. “Do you want me to be Harley Quinn for Halloween?”
“Would you?” Trey’s apprehension melted away. He glanced at her breasts, clearly already imagining her decked out in one of those barely there costumes that had transformed Halloween from a kid’s holiday into an annual stripper convention. “Maybe we could celebrate early this year.”
She giggled. “Sounds good to me. We can order costumes online. Are you going to be the Joker?”
“Hell, no. I’m going to be myself.”
I laughed and dumped the scrambled eggs into a large serving bowl, then lined a plate with paper towels for the bacon. “You’ve just made his deepest fantasies come true,” I called to Layla over my shoulder.
“Whose fantasies?” a deep voice asked from behind me, and I whirled around to find that Kage had finally emerged from the shower. His hair was wet, and one of my white t-shirts was stretched over his muscled body like a second skin, darkening in places where the water was seeping through. He’d also found a pair of sweatpants that were too large for me. They almost fit him, but I couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t appear to be wearing any underwear.
I gulped. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he returned, with a smile and a quick pass of his hand over his wet hair.
Braden stood up, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. “Michael! I mean, Mr. Kage! Could you sign something for me?” He grabbed the roll of paper towels from the table and shoved it toward Kage, who stared at him with an amused look on his face.
“I don’t have a pen on me.” Kage pretended to pat himself down, but there was most assuredly nowhere for a pen to hide under those tight clothes.
“You could always use blood,” Layla suggested.
Kage smiled in her direction. “Are you donating? I’m pretty good at extracting it.”
“So I’ve seen.”
Sensing the impending showdown between my lover and my ex, and knowing that backing down was neither one’s strong suit, I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed the spatula and banged it on the side of the egg bowl. Then suddenly everyone was staring expectantly at me, so I figured I probably ought to come up with something to say.
“Uh… I cooked breakfast.” I aimed the comment toward Kage, but that didn’t stop the others from giving me matching looks that clearly said, No shit.
Kage’s flinty stare, left over from his near-altercation with Layla, softened as he regarded me standing there holding the spatula. His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, and his lips tightened down on the affectionate smile that threatened to escape. I cursed my own reaction— the fine tremor in my fingers, and the way my breath caught in my throat. This was bad. I mean really bad. If my friends witnessed the effect he had on me, especially without the fog of alcohol to disguise it, they’d be onto us within minutes.
Kage took a step toward me and craned his neck to peer over my shoulder. “You’ve been holding out on me, James. I had no idea you were so domestic.”
I spun around, putting my back squarely to him while I struggled to think up a suitable comeback.
“He’s not domestic,” Trey said. “He never cooks.”
Silently thanking Trey for throwing me under the bus, I resisted the urge to tell Layla that her new boyfriend had only recently become acquainted with our washing machine and dryer. The things we did for love. Trey had cleaned up to get Layla, I had cooked to impress Kage, and he would choke down the greasy eggs and bacon to please me. Or at least I hoped he would.