Dangerous Fling (Dangerous Noise 4)

He motions come here. "I'll make you lunch."

"You made breakfast."

"You complaining?"

"No." I take his hand and follow him into the hallway. "I don't want to take advantage."

"You couldn't." He leads me down the stairs and into the kitchen, then points to the stool. "It makes me feel good, taking care of people."

"People you love?" I slide onto the stool and press my palms against the tile. My knees knock together. Then my toes. My legs are dangerously close to spaghetti state.

"People." He checks the fridge and the cabinets. "Let me guess—you want something fried and light on vegetables."

"No. I want you to make some more diet food so I can tease you again." I smile as my eyes meet his. "But, actually, grilled fish and salad is fine."

He shakes his head with mock incredulity. It's playful. More playful than I've seen him so far. "Come here."

I slide off my seat and move into the kitchen. He places his body behind mine as he points out everything in the fridge and the pantry. As much as I like to tease, I admire that Mal takes his work seriously enough to avoid foods that irritate his vocal chords.

It's not surprising. Mal is someone who has taken on the weight of the world for a long, long time. Since his parents left, I'm guessing. That's almost ten years now.

He's a strong, stoic guy, but there's a weariness in his eyes most of the time.

It was there last night.

I want to ask about it, to ask about his parents.

I want to know more of him.

"Anything I want?" I ask.

He mumbles a yes as he pulls my ass against his crotch.

"You're not going to like it. Well, you are… but you'll fight."

"I'll fight you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Try me."

I motion to the top shelf in the pantry, the one filled with boxes of pasta and jars of red sauce. "Carbs, carbs, and more carbs."

He laughs. "Should have known." He motions to the stool. "Sit. I'll make it."

I don't sit. I turn back to him and slide my arms around his neck. "You know how to make pasta?"

"Shockingly, yeah." He runs his fingers through my wet hair. "Piper's favorite food. She's addicted to pho, specificall

y, but she's big on pasta."

"Is that why you have so many boxes of it, for when she's here?"

"Not exactly." He motions sit again.

I shake my head. "I want to assist."

"I guess I already know you're good at following orders."