Page 85 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
“You don’t have to keep cooking for these bastards,” a low voice rumbles behind me.
I start, the spatula slipping in my hand. “God, Arlo, make some noise next time.” I’ve been so focused on flipping pancakes I didn’t even hear him come in.
He ignores the comment completely, stepping closer, his tone rough with sleep. “They can feed themselves,” he says. “You’re not here to wait on them.”
I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips as I turn to face him.
He’s in grey joggers and a black T-shirt that fits a little too well, hair still tousled from sleep, and barefoot. He shouldn’t look this good—this early or ever, really—but there’s no denying it. The man’s gorgeous.
“I’ll make the coffees,” he says before I can even reply.
He moves, switching on the machine and reaching for the coconut milk without asking. He makes mine exactly how I like it, foam light, just a touch of cream, and sets it beside the stove before preparing his own. The rich scent of coffee drifts through the air.
The door opens again. Hunter steps in, far too put-together for this early in the morning, and breathes in. “Smells bloody brilliant in here,” he says. “Any chance of a coffee for me too?”
Arlo doesn’t bother looking up. “Make your own.”
Hunter lets out a low chuckle. “Always a delight, Vass.” His gaze shifts to the pan. “Pancakes, huh? You’re spoiling them, Ophelia.”
I shrug, sliding the next batch onto a plate. “Someone’s got to make sure we don’t starve to death.”
Hunter leans against the counter, crossing his arms with a faint smirk. “If you’re not careful, she’ll have you all domesticated by the end of the week.”
Arlo gives him a flat look. Hunter chuckles, clearly entertained, and I roll my eyes at both of them.
Within minutes Octavia appears, collapsing into a stool at the island with her head on folded arms. “Tell me you made coffee,” she groans.
“Make it your damn self,” Arlo snaps before I can answer.
She peeks up through a strand of hair, eyes narrowing. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
He arches an eyebrow, indifferent. “You should know by now how little I care.”
I slide her a plate before anything else can flare.
Piper arrives, a book in hand and wearing an oversized jumper. She murmurs a soft thank you when I set a pancake down for her.
Adelaide comes in next, Isaak close behind. The room settles into a quiet rhythm as everyone helps themselves to coffee and food.
I switch off the stove, take a plate and my cup, and move to the table. A moment later, Arlo joins me, settling into the seat beside mine.
I cut into my pancake, dipping a piece into the syrup, but before I can bring it to my mouth, his hand comes up, brushing mine aside.
I glance at him, my brows lifting. “What now?”
“Insulin,” he says simply.
“Already done,” I reply.
He studies me for a moment longer, then gives a faint nod and reaches for his own plate.
The room fills with low conversation.
Milo is the last to arrive, sliding into the seat beside my sister with an infuriating grin. “If I’d known you were serving breakfast, malish, I’d have surfaced earlier.”
“Call me that again and I’ll stab you with my fork,” Octavia mutters.
He laughs. “So violent before coffee.”
