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Once she’d slipped on her coat, she grabbed her purse and shopping bags. Her chest went all warm when she realized that Deke had earlier placed the dairy items in Vinnie’s fridge so they wouldn’t need to be trashed. She would have thanked the enforcer, but he shot her a don’t read anything into it look even as he helped return those same items to her bags. Bags he then insisted on carrying, the pushy bastard.
She caught Blair watching them closely, her eyes narrowed. Ugh, she likely suspected that it was Deke who’d bitten Bailey. At least the bush dog could be trusted not to blab.
The walk back to her complex was completely uneventful. When Bailey and Deke stepped out of the elevator onto their floor, he didn’t stop at his own apartment. No, he kept on trailing behind her.
Halting outside her front door, she cast him a quick look as she tugged her keys out of her purse. “What are you doing?”
He raised a brow. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Following me.”
“Then I’m following you.”
Snorting, Bailey unlocked the door and shoved it open. She dropped her keys into the entryway drop-zone basket, hung her purse on a hook there, and shrugged off her coat.
“Go shower,” he told her, kicking the door shut. “I’ll put your shit away in the kitchen.”
She thought about objecting, but why bother? It wasn’t like he wanted to put his shit in her cupboards. And she’d rather hop straight into the shower than first put all her shopping away.
Hanging her coat on the hook beside her purse, she shrugged. “All right, have at it.”
He seemed surprised that she didn’t fight him on it, but he said nothing. He simply marched straight into the kitchen.
After placing her shoes on the wrought-iron rack beneath her coat, Bailey began to head for her bedroom, loving how the heat from the oak wood beneath her feet seeped through her socks. One thing she adored about her apartment was the heated flooring. It had cost a whack, but it was worth every cent.
She doubted anyone would be taken off-guard by the eclectic feel to her apartment. There were lots of bold colors and shiny brass and carved wood. She had plenty of quirky pieces, too. Like the retro stereo planter, the vintage lava lamp, and the antique hanging rotary dial phone.
Inside her modern en suite bathroom that held hints of the French Renaissance period, she stripped naked and stepped into the shower stall. As the hot spray pounded down on her, she scrubbed her body and hair again and again, until the stench of acid was gone; until all she could smell was her coconut soap and her pine-scented hair products.
Done, she dried herself off, pulled on some sweats, dragged a comb through her wet hair, and then left the room. She found Deke still in the kitchen, a mug in hand. The scent of fresh coffee blanketed her.
His gaze swept over her, heating in a way that made her belly roll. “Have you eaten?”
Slipping onto a stool at the island, she shook her head. “I’m not hungry, though.”
He tipped his chin at a particular cupboard. “There’s a snake in there, by the way.”
“Clive likes to play hide and seek.” How he got into the cupboards she hadn’t yet figured out.
Deke gave her a pointed look. “You told Havana you’d gotten rid of the snakes in the building.”
“And I did.” Sort of. “Clive’s just a regular visitor. Like a stray cat, but not a cat.”
He grunted and then took a sip of his drink. “Want coffee?”
“No. I want you to fuck me.”
His muscles bunched, and his eyes darkened. “You got attacked earlier—”
“And I’m healed now. Also pissed. I like to work off my anger with sex. That’s where you come in.”
He lowered his cup to the island. “How do you wind down when sex isn’t available?”
“Masturbate.” She ignored his low curse. “Or go down to the bar and start a fight.” Her eyes widened at the delightful thought. “Actually—”
“No, no barfights.”
“But they’re fun.”
“No. We’re gonna stay inside. I’m going to make you food. You’re going to eat it. Then I’m going to make you come with my mouth before I fuck you.”
That wasn’t an offer she felt the need to refuse. Still, she had to ask, “What is it with you Hammonds and feeding people? Your mom is the ultimate feeder.”
“Only when she likes someone.” He arched a brow. “Now, do we have a plan or what?”
“I guess.”
He snorted. “Don’t sound too enthusiastic.”
“Okay.”
Sheer exasperation flashing across his face, he sighed. “Just so you know, I ain’t a good cook.”
“Who needs to cook when there are microwaves?”
He blinked. “Exactly. But few people would agree with us.”
She shrugged. “I figure that’s their problem.”
Grunting again, he walked to the freezer and opened the door. “So, you like mac and cheese.”
