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His kitchenette was clean, but not so much that it damn sparkled. His countertop boasted scars, a little clutter, and a couple of ring stains that no amount of scrubbing had ever removed.
Just as he lowered his cutlery to his empty plate, he heard the sound of steady footfalls. Soon, Larkin came strolling into the kitchen.
“You’re still wearing your bra,” he complained.
“And I have no intention of taking it off. Deal with it.”
“Well, that was rude, but I’ll let it go because those pancakes were awesome.” He lifted his mug, and the fragrant steam of his coffee wafted his face. “Do you have a cleaner?”
She returned to her stool. “Nope.”
Huh. Who would have guessed she was something of a neat freak? Then again, she didn’t have any needless accessories or sentimental objects lying around to keep tidy. There wasn’t even a single plant or herb pot on her windowsill.
“You have a junk drawer, don’t you?”
Her brows flicked together. “What?”
“No one’s kitchen is this tidy unless they have somewhere to stuff their clutter.”
She shook her head. “No junk drawer.”
Also, no real personality to the space. The only personal touches were the childlike drawings that had been attached to her double-fridge with magnets. He tipped his chin toward them. “I’m guessing Asher was the artist.”
The set of her mouth softened. “Yeah, he was. And that reminds me . . . ”
He arched a questioning brow, sipping at his coffee.
“What are your plans for today?”
“I’ve got a race coming up this afternoon, and then nothing. You?”
“It’s my day off. I’m having lunch with the girls. That’s the extent of my plans until later—I’m on babysitting duty tonight. So are you.”
His head jerked back slightly. “What?”
“You’re helping me babysit Asher.” Larkin almost smiled at the flash of panic on his face. She knew from Khloë that though Teague liked kids, he had a huge aversion to babysitting—the thought of being responsible for young living beings made him uneasy, which was why he’d never agreed to babysit Khloë’s younger siblings. “The other sentinels and I take turns. It’s now mine.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“People in relationships babysit together.” Sort of. Larkin simply wanted to rope him into spending as much time with her as possible so she could begin to subtly sneak beneath his guard and eat away at his ‘no relationships’ stance.
His brow pinching, he flicked his head to the side. “They do?”
“Yup.”
“Huh.” He chewed on the inside of his mouth. “I didn’t know that.”
“Why would you? You’ve never been in a relationship.”
“I came close to it once.”
Jealousy flared inside Larkin, and her equally green-eyed demon flexed its fingers. “Really? What happened there?”
Exhaling a sad sigh, he lowered his cup to the coaster. “Not much. She and I didn’t have much in common. I’m loud and social. She was quiet and inflatable. It was never going to work out.”
Crossing her eyes, Larkin felt a smile curve a mouth. “You’re insane.”
“Proudly.” He propped his elbows on the island. “When does the babysitting gig start?”
“Six-thirty. Meet me here. We’ll head to Harper and Knox’s home together.”
He gave her an odd look. “You sure they’ll be fine with this? I mean, they don’t know me very well. They might not want me in their home and around their kid without them there to supervise.”
Her demon’s jaw hardened, and Larkin felt her expression firm. “If they’re not okay with it, they can ask someone else to babysit. Either we both go, or neither of us go.” She wasn’t going to have anyone make him feel on the outside of their group.
Teague smiled, slow and sexy. “Aw, look at you being all protective. It’s sweet. I’m touched. I really do have the best girlfriend.”
“Yeah, you do. And don’t forget it.”
He chuckled, apparently not unnerved by how she hadn’t done as she usually did and stated that she was his fake girlfriend. It was good that he’d read nothing into it—he might otherwise clam up and pull away. His cluelessness was also somewhat amusing for both her and her entity. The poor hellhorse had no idea that he was the focus of a harpy on the hunt.
It was shortly after they’d finished their coffees that he announced he needed to leave. Her demon predictably pouted. It would no doubt sulk for a while, but whatever.
After pulling on her camisole, Larkin walked him to the front door and pulled it open. As he stepped out into the hall, she shuffled forward and said, “Good luck with your race. Not that you need it.” He never did.
He crooked his finger at her. “Closer. I want to leave here with your taste in my mouth.”
Her stomach fluttered. “Then come get it.”
Grinning, he moved toward her, dipped his head, and then kissed her. It was a deep, drugging kiss that went on and on. Giving her wrist a little squeeze, he drew back. “Later.”
