Page 23 of Forbidden Devotion
Mitchel stood and offered him a hand. “Maybe. Or I can give you plenty, and you can share them. A peace offering.”
Sinclair took his hand and let Mitchel pull him up. “Do they like squash?”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
No one Sinclair knew ate squash. Then again, their diets were limited to one ingredient. Bringing that up wouldn’t help matters any. “I don’t know how to cook it.”
Mitchel led him to the garden. “There’s no wrong way. You can bake it with a little butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon if you’re in the mood for sweet. Or you can pan-fry it in sauce and noodles if you’re in the mood for savory.”
“Sweet sounds good.”
“My favorite.” Mitchel pulled a yellow-and-green-striped squash right off the vine and handed it over.
“But I don’t have anything for you,” Sinclair joked, batting his lashes as Mitchel piled squash after squash into his arms.
“Tell my selfish werewolves to eat their vegetables.”
“As long as you’re prepared to scrape my bloody body off the linoleum when they’re done with me, sure, I’ll tell them.”
“Are they really that bad?”
Sinclair considered bluffing but decided on the truth. “They’re really that bad.”
“Well, if you change your mind, tell me, and I’ll handle it.”
“Thanks. I won’t, though.”
“You can come back if you want.” He nodded toward the stream. “Get your fill of negative ions.”
“Thanks.” Sinclair’s mood lightened. “That would be nice.”
Their gazes met and lingered.
Sinclair squeezed the squashes against his chest. “Well, have a good evening.”
“You too.”
That had gone better than he could have imagined. No. That wasn’t quite true. Sinclair had a vivid imagination, and more and more, Mitchel was coming to star in it. He could definitely imagine something better. Hotter.
He hurried away, cheeks heated and pulse thrumming loudly in his ears.
* * *
Mitchel
Later that week,Mitchel visited the dorm to see for himself how his wolves were treating Sinclair. Though the vampire didn’t want his help, to allow them to bully their housemate would be tacit approval. He might hate vampires, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate Sinclair. And part of his job was to help them build character.
He tiptoed through the back porch to catch a glimpse of the kitchen before anyone caught wind of him. To his surprise, Sinclair and Nathan were sitting at the same table, both of them eating, and neither casting death glares at the other.
Had Sinclair spoken up for himself?
Maybe he didn’t need Mitchel’s help after all.
Nathan’s nose twitched, catching his scent. He glanced from his plate. “Hey, Mitchel. Why are you lurking?”
Sinclair startled, eyes wide as they met Mitchel’s. He muttered a greeting with his mouth still full.
“I’m not lurking, just checking in. Everything okay?”
