Seven
Alistair hummed as he made cookies.
He had no idea why he wanted to make cookies. Especially close to supper. He just did. Oatmeal scotchies. They’d sounded so yummy.
Reed sat at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of hot chocolate, and Alistair tried to think of ways to draw him out. The poor kid was just like a turtle, drawn into his shell.
“How’s the cocoa?” he asked.
“Good.” Reed gave him a ghost of a smile. “Thank you for letting me stay with you and Des.”
“You’re very welcome, Reed. You were very kind to me. But—” He stopped, stirring chips into his batter. “I get the feeling you were a captive there too.”
“I was.” Reed shrugged, a tiny motion he couldn’t really say he understood. It was a little hopeless maybe. “I’m sorry they took you, but I’m thankful to you and your mate.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled, then put a tray of cookies on the counter to wait for the ones to come out of the oven. Then he would put this tray in.
“Dammit, Hamish, I said I didn’t want—” Des stopped on his way to the fridge, were he and Hamish had been headed whenthey burst into the kitchen. “Oh, hello, love. What are you two up to?” He gave Hamish what looked like a warning glare.
“I had the urge to make cookies, and Reed is keeping me company.”
“Ah. Are there any baked yet?”
“No.” A pan was about to come out, but if he let Des and Hamish have at it, they would be gone in about ten seconds. Still scorching hot.
“Ah, damn.” Des winked at him, and Hamish smiled.
“Maybe I’ll bribe Reed here to bring me some when the first batch comes out.”
Reed’s eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed bright pink.
Interesting.
“No one touches the cookies until I get to eat one.” He waved a cookie scoop like a weapon. He was ready to bang on knuckles.
Des held up his hands. “Never let it be said that I steal cookies before my time.”
“Ha! You are a cookie thief. Despoiler of chocolate chips.”
Des blinked at him while Hamish hooted and even Reed giggled a little.
Des finally gave him a wicked smile. “More a despoiler of you, my love.”
“Anytime, babe.” He chuckled. “Unless I’m making cookies.” He slapped Des with the spatula when his mate reached for him.
“Ouch.” Des glanced at Reed. “So how are you settling in, Reed?”
Reed immediately turned red and looked down at his coffee cup. “Um, well, Mr. Alistair asked me to be his personal assistant.”
Hamish perked up. “Yeah? So you’re sticking around?”
“If I’m allowed.”
“Of course you are,” Alistair said, and then his timer dinged. He grunted when he bent, and Des eased him aside.
“I’ll get these, baby.”
“Thanks.” He wasn’t so big he couldn’t bend over, but he was feeling unwieldly, for sure.
