Page 67 of Last Round

“They are disgusting, Killian, and not to mention extremely unhealthy. Besides the obvious alcohol consumption, I’m surprised you haven’t gotten salmonella. Eggs aren’t meant to be eaten raw.” Pressing a finger to my lips, she stops me from speaking. “Don’t give me some lame story about your Irish nature. You’ve just been lucky so far.”

“Luck of the Irish,” I declare with my purposely thickened accent.

Molly rolls her eyes and pushes at my chest. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And you love it.”Kiss. “Which begs the question… which one of us is more ridiculous?”

Kiss. “Definitely you.”

The pan on the stovetop sizzles and the aroma thickens the air. I look between Molly and the frying chicken, torn over what to do. “I better get that before it burns,” I concede.

I should’ve known there was no way I could waste food. It’s another one of those things engraved in me from my childhood. We ate countless meals past their ideal date. Ma refused to ever let us waste a single scrap. Even though I usually joke and give credit to my Irish bloodline for my iron stomach and resilient liver, truth is it’s probably due to years of consuming small levels of God knows what growing on spoiled food.

Molly chuckles as she remains seated on the counter, eating a slice of cucumber I prepped for our salad. “You know, I could get used to this.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup.” Molly is silent as she studies me. “Except, next time, I think you should have nothing on but one of those little aprons.”

“You want me to cook naked for you?” I’m already plotting a surprise for her. I cook naked a lot actually. What? I sleep nude and live alone. Unless you’re frying bacon, who gives a fuck? Still, if this is a fantasy she has, it’s got to be more than my drowsy ass popping a few slices in the toaster and brewing coffee.

“I’m just saying I wouldn’t hate it if you did.”

“Perhaps, if you’re a good girl, your fantasy might become a reality,” I tease. Both of us know, good or bad, I’m going to do it.

She hops off the counter and opens the fridge. “Damn, you really stocked up. Not even Sean has this much food in his fridge.”

“Well, with your brother taking away my shifts at the bar and the extra workouts I’m getting, I figured it’s time to get my ass back in shape.”

Molly chuckles. “Like your ass has ever not been in shape.”

“Do you see this?” I pinch a portion of flab on my abdomen. “This has got to go.”

She squeezes my stomach. “I kind of like it. Reminds me you’re human. All those abs and muscles? Completely unnatural.”

“That’s it.” I turn the stovetop off, pick Molly up, and throw her over my shoulder.

“Wait! What about our dinner?”

It’s done, but she doesn’t need to know that. It can be easily reheated when I’m ready. “Calories digest better post-workout.” I slap her ass.

“I’m hungry,” she whines.

“So am I.” I toss her onto the bed. “Wait right here.” I run back out to the living room and retrieve the duffle bag. Setting it next to her on the mattress, I rummage through the contents, tossing out her boring, pointless clothes.

“Looking for something?” She rests on her elbows with a single eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, I thought I was going to meet more of your friends tonight. Not that we can’t have fun with Mr. Thrusty, but if I learned anything from the Spice Girls, getting with your friends is the key to a successful relationship.”

“Do I even want to know why you’d know that?”

I roll my eyes as I keep searching. “I run a bar and we do karaoke. It’s one of the top ten drunk girl anthems.” The bag is completely empty. I turn it over and dangle it in the air, hoping that I somehow missed them. “Where are they?”

Molly bites her lip.

“Molly?” She leans back as I crawl over her. “Why didn’t you bring your toys?”

“I kind of panicked,” she admits after a long pause.

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