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Ian and Enzo flick their eyes between us, then look at each other again. Ian shrugs, and Enzo clears his throat before looking at me again.
“Anyway, I gotta go to work,” he announces. “Sorry to run as soon as you get here.” She pulls him in for a quick hug.
“You have a ride?” she asks when she pulls away, and he waves her off.
“Don’t worry about me, Ma.” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “Nice to meet you, man.” He jerks his chin at me, and I nod back as he passes. He slips outside, leaving Kennedy, Ian, and I standing in the living room.
The dog runs in a circle around us, trying to get our attention, but all I can focus on is her. The way she's having a full conversation with her son with just her eyes. Finally, she sighs and rubs her forehead.
"I'll cook you something before I leave," she says tiredly.
"I'll just order a pizza." I swallow down my irritation. It wouldn't have bothered me if she didn't look instantly defeated.
"Let her cook for you," I say, and they both look at me with the same expression. "What?"
"Don't tell him what to do," she snaps.
"Why not?" I look at him again and scan him slowly. "How old are you, anyway?"
"Fifteen," he says slowly, then glances at Kennedy. "Why?"
"Are you old enough to be left alone?" His eyes widen comically at my question.
"He's fine," she growls. "Just because you can't be left alone without adult supervision doesn't mean everyone's like that. Some of us, even fifteen-year-old boys, are more mature than you."
"Never doubted his maturity, babe. Just asked if he could be left alone." I take a few steps back, holding my hands up placatingly. "I'll stay out of it. Please," I jerk my hand at him, "mother your son." She glares harder at me, but I just smile.
The hold this woman has on my heart already.
Kiwi
Kennedy spends the next hour and a half running around the apartment getting dressed. She's told me to leave, but I've ignored her and camped out on the couch instead. The dog, Rasputin, has been curled in my lap the entire time. I'm giving Kennedy a ride to the bar, if for no other reason than I like the way it feels to have her tits pressed against me.
"Kiwi!" she shouts from the bathroom. My heart lurches at the sound of my name from her lips. I groan as I stand, my knees popping. I'm not all that old, but I was a fucking idiot when I was younger and now my knees are fucked. So is my back. And my left hip. And right shoulder. Probably a lot of other shit, too.
"Yes, my Queen?" I ask as I rest my hands on the top of the doorframe and lean into the room. She glares at me through the mirror as she puts her lipstick on.
"Can you put a pot of water on the stove?" she asks, sliding her eyes back to her reflection.
"Oh, I'm mature enough to boil water now?" I smirk when her jaw tightens.
"Kiwi," she sighs, her eyes finding mine again.
"I like the way you say my name."
"Fuck off," she laughs. I want to move up behind her and wrap my arms around her. Maybe kiss on her neck...then bend her over the counter and fuck her until her throat is raw from screaming my name. "And take some pasta out of the pantry?" She bats her lashes at me, and I shake my head, a grin still on my face.
"Anything else, Your Majesty?" I bow, and when I stand up, she's flipping me off.
"No, just the water and noodles," she says. "Oh, and peasant?" she calls when I turn my back. I can't help the giant, goofy smile I have on my face when I look at her again. "The curly noodles, not the spaghetti."
"The curly noodles?" I lift my brow and she shrugs.
"Kid likes what he likes."
"He wants you to cook for him now?" I ask and she looks back at herself, her face falling.
"I figured I'd make him something, anyway. Just in case he gets hungry later, or if Enzo comes back."
