I suppose it would be nicest if we all got along and had a nice dinner, though. I’ll try at diplomacy. Rafe is Sin’s boss, after all.
“I’m baking chicken. It’s really good. Then for dessert, I’m making brookies.”
“Brookies?” Amusement flashes across Rafe’s face. “I heard talk of a different dessert menu.”
“That menu is only for me,” Sin states.
“Is it?” Rafe asks, cocking his head. “I certainly tasted it first.”
Since I’m not in the loop and it feels like they’re thrusting and parrying again, I interject, “Yes, well, we’re having brookies. Have you had a brookie before?”
Shaking his head, Rafe says, “I don’t eat many sweets.” Flashing a brief smile, he adds, “I’ll eat yours, though.”
“They’ll change your life,” I promise him.
“They already have,” he mutters dryly.
Since they’re clearly engaging in double-talk, I throw out some of my own, “Are we going to go all night? Or should we maybe exercise friendliness through dinner?”
“I’m being friendly,” Rafe insists.
“You’re being you,” I correct.
“Well, you used to think I was pretty friendly,” he reminds me.
“I used to believe a fat man in a red suit dropped down a chimney and delivered me neatly wrapped presents every December; I’m wrong sometimes.”
Moving away from them and over to the stove, I check the timer, then bend to crack open the oven door and take a peek. The chicken is sizzling nicely, so I close the door to keep in the heat, and grab the spoon on the counter, stirring the broccoli cooking on the stovetop. Luckily the chicken came in a three pack, so even though there are only two of us, I went ahead and made all three pieces. At first I figured Sin could take leftovers for lunch tomorrow, then I realized he doesn’t work a typical nine to five and consequently there’s probably no formal lunch break.
I wonder if there’s some sort of mobster 401k program in place? Probably not. I should help him set something up for himself while I’m here.
My eyes widen as a sudden realization hits me. Rafe doesn’t know Sin kept me here against my will. He thinks I’m here because I want to be, and that I’m seeing Sin.
Smiling with unabashed glee, I walk back over to the men and hold my hand out to Sin. “May I see my phone please?”
Sin stares at me, unmoving. “Your phone?”
I nod. “I need to call Carly real quick while I’m waiting for the food to finish cooking. I missed her call earlier and she’s probably starting to wonder if I got kidnapped or something.”
Sin does not return the gleeful amusement in my eyes. His dark brown eyes are dead at best, maybe a little annoyed. “It’s pretty close to dinnertime. Why don’t you call her later?”
“I think I’d like to call her now.”
“I think your battery’s dead,” he says.
“Okay.” Turning to Rafe, I ask, “Will you let me borrow your phone for two minutes?”
“No,” Sin says, before Rafe can respond. Shooting me a narrowed look, he fishes my phone out of his pocket and holds it out to me.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching for it.
Sin doesn’t let go of the phone. I meet his gaze and he moves closer, giving me a look that wordlessly reminds me not to do anything stupid. He’s so silly. Does he really think I want to drag my sister into this shit show?
Finally, he releases the phone.
As I wake it up and open my recent calls, Rafe asks, “Why does he have your phone?”
Sin opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, I offer, “No pockets.” Then I indicate the thin, pocketless pajamas I’m wearing.