I remove the bandage from the wrapper and make sure the wound is clean. He holds it up for me and our faces are very close together. I like being this near him. I like his smell and his smile. I like how he’s a total mess and just owns it.
I fold the adhesive around his finger, settling the padding over the wound. “What about the one on your back? Sky diving? Mountain climbing? White water rafting?”
His eyes flicker, turning dark with something I don’t recognize, and his mouth turns down. Sierra is silent for a moment then says, “I think we’re ready. Jake! Are the burgers ready?”
“Yep!”
“We’re coming out! Starlee,” she nods at the package on the table, “grab those buns.”
“Sure.” I glance at George and whatever passed between us has vanished, his easy smile back on his face. He’s cleaning up the mess from his injury, plucking bleach wipes from a container by the sink.
Sierra gives him a look and he just nods before she walks out the door.
“Thanks for fixing me up,” he says, holding up his finger.
I want to apologize. I want to know what made him upset. I want to know so many things like, why couldn’t I not do something wrong every time I’m with these guys?
I just say, “Any time,” and pick up the bag of buns and head for the backyard.
The food’s arranged on a sideboard and to my surprise the boys are all waiting for me when I step outside. “Grab your plate,” Sierra says. “Guests go first.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. Once they get the go ahead there’ll be nothing left but crumbs.”
I cast a glance over the boys, who wait anxiously. I get my plate and fill it. Sierra gets hers next, taking her time, and once we’re both finished she walks to the door and says, “I’ll be up in my room. Watching a little SPN and relaxing. You guys have fun. No fires. No fireworks. No—”
“Fun,” George mumbles.”
She shoots him a glare. “And clean up—don’t make Starlee do it.”
Wait, what? I want to shout, realizing I’m suddenly alone with the four of them. Sierra is my buffer. The one that makes it okay for me to be here. This…this is a violation of the rules. Big time. All of this is running through my head when Jake bumps my elbow with his and asks, “You eating standing up?”
“Uh, no,” I say, going back to the seat I was in before. We’re in a tight circle. Charlie to my left. His phone is on the arm of his chair face down and I don’t recall him being on it all night. Maybe there’s a no device rule at dinner.
Not that they have time for anything other than shoving food in their mouths. Holy crap.
The boys are quiet while they stuff their faces and I’m shocked and amazed at how much and how quickly they eat. I take a bite of my burger and smile at Jake. “This is really good.”
“Thanks. Everyone has a night to cook. Burgers are my specialty.”
I look around the circle of guys. “What’s everyone else cook?”
“Pizza,” says Charlie.
“Pasta,” admits George with a shrug. The dark strain in his eyes has completely vanished. “We’re fans of carbs.”
Dexter doesn’t respond, so I break the silence we’ve established all evening. “And what about Dexter?”
“Well, obviously he’s the baker so if we’re lucky he’ll make pot-pie or something elaborate,” Jake says.
“If he’s not being a pain,” George adds. Dexter glares at him and I’m glad for once I’m not on the other side of that look.
“Your pies are awesome.” I think about it for a minute. “Did you start baking them for Sierra and the whole Supernatural thing?”
I’m not sure he’ll answer, but he nods. “I did.”
“I bet Sierra loved it.”