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“So, where did you two meet?”
“We went to high school together,” I say shortly.
“High schoolsweethearts?” Angus crows.
I can’t stand him thinking that, so I snap, “No, not at all. We barely spoke in high school.”
I could probably tell you every single time.
The flash of dark eyes in a crowded hallway as we jostled together. That low, taunting voice by my ear: “Careful, Mahoney. That was second base…”
I try to banish Sullivan from my brain. All versions of him.
“Was he popular?” Angus says, like it’s obvious I wasn’t. “He must have been.”
“He and his brother practically ruled the school.”
With a guilty squirm, I remember when that stopped. The awful thing that happened…
Reese seemed to handle it okay. But Sullivan changed, from carelessly cruel to a darker kind of anger…
“How did you reconnect?”
Shit.Angus wants details, and I don’t have any to give. I don’t want to lie, but my bribe isn’t ready—this sauce needs ten more minutes at least.
I swallow hard, pulling the caramel off the heat.
“Actually, Angus, we nev?—“
He cuts across me, “I forgot to tell you, I need you to work this weekend. I really want to get going on this LA campus!”
Angus is a perpetual interrupter, his brain jumping around like a grasshopper. Never has the timing been worse.
I haven’t had a weekend off in two months.
Angus promised me I could see the film festival. I already bought tickets.
But, of course, he doesn’t remember that. Or he’s pretending not to.
Either way, I don’t have a choice. If Angus wants me working this weekend, I’m working.
All of a sudden, the vast, sparkling kitchen feels claustrophobic, and even the sprawling ocean view seems to shrink to the size of a postage stamp.
Am. Trapped.
“Thanks, Theo,” Angus says, without waiting for my agreement. “What were you saying?”
“I was saying, the food’s ready.”
I set the crepe in front of him, stuffed with lemon sauce and cream, drizzled with the not-quite-finished caramel.
Angus saws off a bite and places it on his tongue, eyes rolling back.
“Mmm!”he groans in orgasmic bliss.
