Page 11 of Dead to Rights
From the outside, it seemed like not much could ruffle the cowboy’s feathers. Calm and confident, he took every new challenge in stride, and he rarely lost his temper. Through some trial and error, he’d managed to find new purpose in the village, and all he had ever wanted was answers.
Now that he had those answers, they clearly hadn’t been what he’d expected. And really, who could blame him? His entireworld had been turned upside down because of a delusional obsession.
While his heart hurt for the guy, he felt like he knew Finn well enough to guess he wouldn’t respond well to pity. So, he took a deep breath and stuffed those feelings down before approaching the island.
“Is this a private party or can I join you?” he asked as he slid onto the barstool beside him.
Sighing heavily, Finn wiped both hands over his face before swiveling around to face him. “I’ll warn you. I’m not good company right now.”
“Fair enough.” The guy would have to do better than that if he really wanted him to leave, though. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
He’d expected as much. “Want to eat?”
Finn opened his mouth but paused, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Pardon?”
“Do you want to eat?” he repeated, enunciating each word with exaggerated slowness. “You know, food. You cook it, and if you do it right, it’s delicious.”
“I know what food is, smartass.”
But it got a chuckle from the vampire, and Noah would take what he could get.
“I was fixing to make some cowboy chili,” Finn offered after a brief hesitation.
“Cool.” He didn’t know how to make cowboy chili, but he could take direction. “I’ll chop stuff.” Sliding off the barstool, he paused and tilted his head. “There is stuff to chop, right?”
“Yeah.” Finn joined him at the end of the counter and reached out to ruffle his hair with another quiet chuckle. “There’s stuff to chop.”
Noah ducked his head, damning his fair complexion when he felt the heat creep into his cheeks. He just wished he knew ifthose casual touches meant the same thing to Finn as they did to him.
Although generally friendly with everyone, Finn didn’t seem to be all that affectionate. Oh, he’d offer a handshake or a clap on the shoulder, but he didn’t go around caressing people’s faces or brushing their hair behind their ear.
He wanted to believe that meant something, that it made him special, but their relationship never seemed to progress beyond those small moments. Of course, he could be an adult and use his words, but every time he tried, the risk of rejection stayed his tongue.
So, instead, he busied himself with finding and gathering the supplies he needed while Finn laid out a variety of vegetables on the counter beside him—onions, peppers, garlic, and a fat jalapeno.
His high-rise apartment at the Tower offered a full-sized kitchen with everything he needed to prepare his own meals. Anything not already available, the apartment itself provided.
Much like the castle, there seemed to be an intelligence to the Tower…or very clever magic. Everything from clothes and shoes to a pantry full of food simply materialized, renewing and replacing as necessary based on his preferences and whims.
Despite having the tools he needed to cook, however, he rarely utilized them. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had prepared a meal that involved anything more complex than preheating the oven.
He didn’t consider himself inept or bad at cooking. He just didn’t particularly enjoy it. Rather than finding the rhythm of the task soothing or even distracting, it just bored or frustrated him. Not because he couldn’t do it but because he would literally rather be doing anything else.
He liked being in the kitchen with Finn, though. Working side by side toward a shared goal felt fulfilling in a way he hadn’texpected. From the corner of his eye, he watched Finn move with a quiet confidence as he gathered spices and lined them up on the counter.
When he retrieved a bowl from an overhead cabinet, he stood a little closer than strictly necessary, his arm brushing against Noah’s in a way that felt more intentional than not. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.
“What?” he asked when he caught Finn staring at him a few minutes later.
Finn smiled, gentle and unhurried. “Nothing.”
Brushing a curl away from his eyes with the back of his wrist, Noah huffed out a nervous laugh. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Finn echoed, his tone quiet and teasing.
And yet the single word settled between them, heavy with something beyond simple banter.
