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“Sounds perfect. You want some coffee?” Halo asked as he moved to the Nespresso machine at the far end of the counter.
“What do you think?”
“Yes. You aren’t human until you have your coffee.”
As I grabbed some butter, the carton of eggs, and a package of bacon, I felt a hand on my lower back, and then the fresh scent of Halo’s soap wafted around me as he moved into my personal space and peered over my shoulder into the fridge.
“Will you pass me the milk?” he said.
The question wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but with his warm breath on the back of my neck, every nerve ending in my body was on high alert, and when he ran his hand down to my ass and squeezed, I quickly turned and held my full hands up. “You’ll have to grab it.”
Halo chuckled as I sidestepped him to head back to the stove, and as I went, I shut my eyes and told myself to pull it together. Since when was I hyperaware of every single thing another person did? This was bordering on ridiculous.
“So should I be worried you’re cooking for me?” Halo asked as he shut the fridge and made his way back to the coffee machine.
I flipped on the burner, and after I had the frying pan and butter heating, I glanced over to where Halo was busy getting out two cups and the coffee pods. “Nope. Mom made sure I knew how to cook. Told me if I was gonna survive being some poor musician traveling the country in an RV with a bunch of yahoos, I needed to know how.”
Halo laughed, and when I looked at him, he was leaning up against the counter watching me. “So you all cook?”
“Fuck no.” I scoffed. “Killian can grill, and I can cook, but everyone else? Forget it. And Trent, he was the fuckin’ worst. Couldn’t even boil an egg, that guy.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’d be surprised if he even knew where they were in the grocery store.” I chuckled as I thought about the time he’d “helped” with dessert at Killian’s parents’ house, only to pour a shit-ton of salt into the cake mix instead of sugar.
“You guys have been friends a long time, huh?” When I cut my eyes to him, Halo added, “I mean you were.”
“Right,” I agreed, then heard myself say, “He would’ve liked you.”
When Halo’s eyes widened, I tried to understand why I’d said that. I didn’t give two shits what Trent Knox was doing these days. I didn’t even care if he liked what we were doing here with Fallen Angel. But I figured Halo would like to think that the man he’d come in here to replace would approve of him.
“You think?”
I nodded, dragged my eyes away from his, and went back to stirring the eggs, shoving aside the emotion that was making my heart thump a little harder at the pleasure I saw in Halo’s eyes. “I do. Okay, how many pieces of bacon?”
“Oh,” Halo said as he took the cup from the machine and brought it over to me. When he put it down beside me, he aimed a smile at me that did jack shit to calm my thumping heart. “How about four?”
“You got it.”
Halo’s eyes narrowed, and when he cocked his head to the side, I thought he was going to call me out on being a fucking weirdo this morning. But instead he said, “What time did you say Rolling Stone was coming tomorrow?”
Oh thank fuck. “Um, I think Kill said nine?”
Halo nodded as he walked backward toward the coffee machine. “Got it.”
“You nervous?”
“Yes and no.”
I chuckled as I picked up the pan and divided the eggs onto two plates. “You haven’t got anything to be nervous about—you know that, right?”
“Uh, no. They’re going to be asking a bunch of questions and taking a million photos that are supposed to ‘launch’ Fallen Angel. That’s only slightly terrifying.”
“You’re going to do great.” As I laid the strips of bacon in the pan, I glanced down the counter to where Halo was looking over at me, seeking my approval, as he always did when he was unsure.
“You think?”
Was there really any doubt? I’d been mesmerized from the second Halo walked in the door, and I was starting to believe there was no damn cure for it.
“Angel, they’re not gonna know what hit ’em.”
Twenty-One
Halo
THE ROLLING STONE feature was in full swing at the mansion the next morning. I stood beside Viper in the corner of the kitchen, both of us drinking our coffees as we watched crews of people pouring in: hair and makeup artists, costume designers, the lighting crew, the photographer and his assistants, a catering team, the journalist who’d be interviewing us, and a rep from MGA, since Brian was currently across the country dealing with one of his other artists. People everywhere, and a knot in my stomach the size of a damned grapefruit and still growing.
