Page 71 of Three Irish Kings
My stomach growls. It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve eaten well, given everything that’s going on. I’ve just been too busy to focus on taking care of myself.
I make my way into the kitchen, booming music assaulting my ears as I get closer. I push the kitchen door open, and she’s dropping down into a crouch and then back up again, shaking her ass to the music, lip-syncing with a spatula as she flips bacon in a pan.
I fight a smile and hate how cute she looks.
And that ass. God, I’d spank her so good.
Snap out of it!
“Your moves are a little stiff.”
She doesn’t miss a beat, still grooving to the music. “As stiff as that stick up your ass?”
I walk over to the kitchen radio, which is perched in the windowsill, and flip it off.
She huffs, blowing her bangs out of her face. “You’re such a buzzkill.”
“On the contrary. I was going to offer you a beer.”
Isla wrinkles her nose. “A beer? I’m more of a wine gal.”
“Suit yourself.” I open the fridge, popping the beer open with the crook of my elbow.
Isla’s eyes widen. “How’d you learn to do that?”
I chuckle low in my throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Can’t imagine you as a frat boy.”
“Top of my class, president of my fraternity, Alpha Omega.”
“Youwere an Alpha Omega?”
“Don’t look so shocked.” I plop down in the kitchen chair, and it suddenly hits me how exhausted I am. I haven’t been eating, haven’t been sleeping much. I’m going to drop if I’m not careful.
She begrudgingly slides me a plate of bacon cheeseburger and homemade fries, and it looks and smells delicious.
“You made me a burger.” My voice isn’t questioning but more just baffled.
“Yeah, well, you gotta eat, too, don’t you?” Her tone sounds defensive as she sits across from me instead of going back into her bedroom, chowing down on her burger.
I take a wary bite, and flavor bursts on my tongue.
“It’s good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“You said you didn’t cook.”
She shrugs. “I don’t. Not much, anyway. This is about the only thing I know how to make other than ramen noodles.”
“That means you’re not a bad cook. You’re just lazy.”
Isla frowns and blinks at me. “Does everything out of your mouth need to sound so cruel?”
“It’s not cruelty if it’s the truth. Just honesty.” That’s how I was raised.
“That's...not how it works.”
