Page 35 of Hush Darling
“I can handle some heat.” He took a bite and closed his eyes. “Mmm…” He swallowed. “I can’t remember the last time I tasted anything so delicious.”
She smiled, and her frustration faded. There was no rule saying her enjoyment on this trip needed to rely on Peter and his horny, mercurial moods. “Did your mother cook?”
“My mother?” Cassian frowned. “I don’t remember my mother.”
“Oh.” His answer surprised her, and she didn’t want to trespass on a touchy subject.
“None of us do,” the twins said. “We were orphans.”
Her pity seemed misplaced, as they were all grown men now. But it was sad to think that not a single one of them had the love of a mother growing up. “Is that where you all met? An orphanage?”
Cassian, Tate, Nibbs, and the twins nodded. She had no idea where Peter and Bayne had gone.
Was that what they meant earlier when they said they escaped? Did they remember the orphanage as a prison? Her heart pinched as she pictured them each as little boys. And if Peter was the first to escape, did that mean he was adopted by the Pangbournes and not their biological son? So many realizations filled her with an urge to nurture and take care of all of them.
“Who’s ready for soup?” They all perked up. “Bring your bowls to the stove.”
They lined up with their bowls as she ladled out the contents. She didn’t bother to call Peter, figuring he’d find his way back eventually.
The kitchen grew quiet as the men ate, the silence only broken by the occasional groan of satisfaction. The deep grunts and moans became so animated she blushed as they started to sound almost sexual.
Peter showed up just as everyone finished having thirds. She was glad she made such a large pot, because these boys could eat!
Showered and dressed in fresh clothes, Peter carried an air of untouchable confidence, making it clear he was still disappointed in her decision not to fuck him. Bayne followed him around like a salivating lapdog, desperate for every scrap of attention he could get.
As much as she’d looked forward to experiencing all the Never Lands had to offer, she now wished she’d never come at all. “If there’s a way I can get in touch with the pilot?—”
“He’s gone,” Peter said, lifting the lid off the pot and peeking inside at the little soup that remained.
“When will he be back?”
He shrugged and grabbed a bowl. “When I call him.”
She ground her teeth. “Peter, I have to go home eventually.”
“And eventually you will.” He sat at the table as if put out by her tedious chatter. “I would have never brought you here if I’d known you’d be this high maintenance.”
Her lips firmed. “I am not high maintenance!”
“Sure you are.”
She growled in frustration and brushed past him, purposefully bumping his shoulder so the soup spilled off his spoon. The Lost Boys drifted out of the kitchen, and she washed the dishes in stewing silence as Peter ate.
When she got to her guest room, her nightgown was lying on the bed, freshly laundered and pristine. Her robe was also there.
She stripped out of Cassian’s shirt and changed into her own clothes. If Peter wanted to go out, he was going to take her with him. “Let’s see how smooth your game is then,” she grumbled.
When she returned to the kitchen, her steps staggered to a halt. The counters were spotless and the food had all been put away. She didn’t know who did this, but she was grateful for their help.
The Lost Boys appeared, looking especially handsome in their night clothes. They collectively smelled divine, and she realized the lot of them would have no problem getting laid with or without her presence.
“Wow, don’t you all look dapper.” Hair was styled, jaws were shaved—save Cassian’s—and clothes were pressed. It was quite the transformation.
Nibbs studied his reflection in the toaster. “Gotta look our best for a lagoon party.”
“A lagoon party?” That sounded fancy. She looked down at her nightgown and robe, wondering if she should stay back after all.
“What’s the matter?” Tate asked, noticing her concern.
