first sight, but when Dad looks at Alec, it’s so evident there has never been anyone other than Alec for him. Harry and I have been best friends ever since he pulled my pigtails and said my dress was ugly.” At my blank stare she chuckled. “I hated pigtails, and I definitely hated the dress I was wearing.”
“So…Harry’s mom?”
“She died during child birth. I don’t know much about it to be honest. Neither Harry nor Alec will talk about it. You hit a wall of ice when you even try and discuss it. So I wouldn’t mention it.”
“Because I’m all about personal chats.” I huffed.
She blinked at me, before grinning. “There is a sense of humor hidden underneath all that sexy muscle,” she joked, but then her words seemed to settle in her mind, and a very deep blush rose up her neck. Her hands fiddled with the items she’d pulled out of the fridge, and she started rambling quickly; it was hard to follow.
“Alec is bi-sexual. According to Dad, he was in a relationship with a man before he met Harry’s mum. But he fell in love with her, they married had a baby, but then tragically she died. Harry doesn’t remember his mum at all. He has pictures of her but no connection emotionally. He’s close to my dad, but he doesn’t get along with Alec.” She sucked in a deep breath.
“Why don’t they get along?”
Her shoulders lifted in a gentle shrug as she washed her hands in the sink. “Don’t know.”
“You don’t know or don’t want to say?”
She busied herself emptying packets and bags onto the counter. I bent and grabbed my pre-bought dinner. I held it up as I headed into the kitchen.
“I have my own dinner. No need for you to cook for me.”
She turned her head to look over her shoulder. Her mouth gaped open slightly, and her brow furrowed. “I don’t know whether to be offended or not.”
“What? Why?” I glanced down at the box in my hand and back to her.
“I’m preparing steak Diane, and you are choosing a dried box of noodles instead.”
I glanced down at the box again. “I didn’t expect you to make my food.”
“Okay, you are going to be living in my house until this nut is caught. You wouldn’t eat that crap at home, would you?”
“I do. I have them in different flavours.”
“What?”
“They do different flavours.” Ryan, you fucking tool get a grip. “It’s kind of what I’m used to. Ready meals.”
Her eyes widened slightly, before her lips lifted in an apologetic smile. “Well, in my house they are banned. I’m forcing you to eat steak.” She paused, and her smile quivered
“Yes, ma’am.”
She beamed and quickly turned back to her ingredients. I watched her for an inappropriate amount of time, the way her back moved as she chopped vegetables, how her hips swayed to unheard music.
“How do you like your steak?”
“Medium, please.”
“’Kay. Grab a seat. Do you want a beer?” She opened the fridge and bent giving me a delectable view of her ass.
“Sure,” I choked out.
“I have Bud or Crafty Hen.”
“I generally drink Bud, but what the hell is a Crafty Hen?” I scoffed out a laugh.
“Ale, like the proper stuff. Not this pathetic shite Harry drinks.”
“I’m your bodyguard. I can’t be known as pathetic.”
“Crafty Hen it is.”
She reached into a cupboard, grabbing two glasses, and poured out our beers. It felt foreign sitting in a woman’s kitchen drinking beer and having her cook for me. Yeah, Ane, Will’s mom, had done that before, but this felt different.
“So you’re a dancer?” I asked again, mesmerised by the gentle sway of her hips.
“Hmm?”
“You said Harry is your dance partner.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, kind of. I only dance in there.” She pointed the knife in her hand at the music room. “Nowhere else, unless I’m out at a club, but that rarely happens.”
“Why? Are you so bad at it?” I joked taking a swig of beer.
Her laughter was nervous.
“Kind of. I just like to keep it private.
“So…Harry’s mom?”
“She died during child birth. I don’t know much about it to be honest. Neither Harry nor Alec will talk about it. You hit a wall of ice when you even try and discuss it. So I wouldn’t mention it.”
“Because I’m all about personal chats.” I huffed.
She blinked at me, before grinning. “There is a sense of humor hidden underneath all that sexy muscle,” she joked, but then her words seemed to settle in her mind, and a very deep blush rose up her neck. Her hands fiddled with the items she’d pulled out of the fridge, and she started rambling quickly; it was hard to follow.
“Alec is bi-sexual. According to Dad, he was in a relationship with a man before he met Harry’s mum. But he fell in love with her, they married had a baby, but then tragically she died. Harry doesn’t remember his mum at all. He has pictures of her but no connection emotionally. He’s close to my dad, but he doesn’t get along with Alec.” She sucked in a deep breath.
“Why don’t they get along?”
Her shoulders lifted in a gentle shrug as she washed her hands in the sink. “Don’t know.”
“You don’t know or don’t want to say?”
She busied herself emptying packets and bags onto the counter. I bent and grabbed my pre-bought dinner. I held it up as I headed into the kitchen.
“I have my own dinner. No need for you to cook for me.”
She turned her head to look over her shoulder. Her mouth gaped open slightly, and her brow furrowed. “I don’t know whether to be offended or not.”
“What? Why?” I glanced down at the box in my hand and back to her.
“I’m preparing steak Diane, and you are choosing a dried box of noodles instead.”
I glanced down at the box again. “I didn’t expect you to make my food.”
“Okay, you are going to be living in my house until this nut is caught. You wouldn’t eat that crap at home, would you?”
“I do. I have them in different flavours.”
“What?”
“They do different flavours.” Ryan, you fucking tool get a grip. “It’s kind of what I’m used to. Ready meals.”
Her eyes widened slightly, before her lips lifted in an apologetic smile. “Well, in my house they are banned. I’m forcing you to eat steak.” She paused, and her smile quivered
“Yes, ma’am.”
She beamed and quickly turned back to her ingredients. I watched her for an inappropriate amount of time, the way her back moved as she chopped vegetables, how her hips swayed to unheard music.
“How do you like your steak?”
“Medium, please.”
“’Kay. Grab a seat. Do you want a beer?” She opened the fridge and bent giving me a delectable view of her ass.
“Sure,” I choked out.
“I have Bud or Crafty Hen.”
“I generally drink Bud, but what the hell is a Crafty Hen?” I scoffed out a laugh.
“Ale, like the proper stuff. Not this pathetic shite Harry drinks.”
“I’m your bodyguard. I can’t be known as pathetic.”
“Crafty Hen it is.”
She reached into a cupboard, grabbing two glasses, and poured out our beers. It felt foreign sitting in a woman’s kitchen drinking beer and having her cook for me. Yeah, Ane, Will’s mom, had done that before, but this felt different.
“So you’re a dancer?” I asked again, mesmerised by the gentle sway of her hips.
“Hmm?”
“You said Harry is your dance partner.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, kind of. I only dance in there.” She pointed the knife in her hand at the music room. “Nowhere else, unless I’m out at a club, but that rarely happens.”
“Why? Are you so bad at it?” I joked taking a swig of beer.
Her laughter was nervous.
“Kind of. I just like to keep it private.
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