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Honor glanced down, then couldn’t help a grin when she saw his briefs left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Okay, yeah, she probably should answer his door for him.
She reached to set the spatula on the counter when another light knock sounded as the door opened.
“Asher? You home?”
Roxanna’s concerned voice was only one second ahead of the brunette rounding the corner into the kitchen. She pulled up short when she saw both of them by the stove.
“Oh. Hi.”
“Hi,” they said at the same time.
Her gaze bounced from Asher, to Honor, and back again. Then her eyes widened, and she held up a hand while turning her head. “Geez Louise, Ace. Put that thing away.”
Honor smothered an amused snort at the reaction.
Asher crossed his arms over his bare chest and widened his stance. “You’re the one who walked in uninvited.”
“I knocked. Twice. And if you’d answered your texts, I wouldn’t have had to come over to make sure you’re okay.” Her profile turned pink as she added, “Although, I can see now why you didn’t bother with your texts.”
“Yeah, pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
“Too obvious. Go put some damn pants on.”
He didn’t speak for a long moment, then finally huffed out an annoyed breath and strode toward his bedroom.
“Take a cold shower while you’re at it,” the psychic called after his back.
“Or you could just leave,” he hollered back before the bedroom door slammed.
Honor watched Roxanna’s grin fade in the awkward silence that fell when it was just the two of them in the kitchen. They had come to tolerate each other over the past week or so. Their last exchange when she’d dropped off cupcakes had bordered on friendly. Barely.
She gestured to the platter of food and plates on the island. “There’s plenty of French toast if you want some?”
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“Too late.” She tempered the words with a wry smile.
“Yeah, sorry.”
The tall brunette contradicted the words by grabbing herself a third plate and fork—from the correct cupboard and drawer, without having to search for the items like Honor had. Witnessing her familiarity with Asher’s home and realizing she must have a key to have opened the front door sparked a twinge of jealousy.
“I get his mail and keep an eye on the house when he’s gone for work, that’s all. I told you, he’s like a brother to me. Yeah, he’s hot, but no way do I want to ogle him in his briefs.”
The reply stood the hairs of her arm on end as she shot Roxanna a glance, but the woman’s head was hidden behind the pantry door. She emerged with syrup and powdered sugar and casually set them next to the plate of French toast, as if answering someone’s private thoughts was perfectly normal.
Then she darted a furtive glance toward the living room before leaning on the counter to ask, “How’s he doing?”
Still somewhat unnerved, Honor arched her eyebrows. “Seems like you should already know that.”
A smile curved her lips. “That last thing was a woman thing, not a psychic thing. If I spent the night with a guy and his female friend just walked right in, I’d want to know why she had a key, too.”
That made sense—though, she could’ve totally used it to shore up her psychic claims instead of giving Honor ammunition against them by confirming it was a lucky guess.
“I don’t have to prove myself to anyone.” Roxanna faced her and held out a plate, inviting her to eat even though Honor had done the cooking. “You’re either open to believing, or you’re not. You get to decide that, not me or anyone else. Only you.”
Her pulse stuttered as she stepped forward to take the plate. Not only had Roxanna correctly guessed her thoughts again, but she got the impression the woman was referring to more than belief in her uncanny abilities.
“The thing is,” Roxanna continued, “this is really huge. I don’t know how he’s playing it, but I do know he went to his parents’ house last night after the news broke, so I stopped to make sure he’s doing okay.”
