Page 25 of Tangled in Red

“You’re so thoughtful!” Brett scraped every bit he could from the tiny cup, flicking his wrist as he battled to get the stubborn fluff onto the pie.

The first bite sent his eyes rolling back. The spice danced on his tongue, and the texture was pure creamy perfection.

A groan bubbled up from his throat as his fork clinked the plate to scoop another mouthful of joy.

“Just hand over the rest of the pie, a vat of whipped cream, and leave me unsupervised for ten blissful minutes.”

Diablo chuckled, giving Brett’s foot a playful tap. “I’ll let Cesar know you’re obsessed with his baking.”

Brett gaped at him. “Is this homemade?”

Diablo set down a plate piled high with pancakes. Brett quickly counted—ten in the stack. Diablo had already devoured half with no signs of slowing down.

“Seriously, where do you put all that food? And don’t give me ‘you’re a growing boy’ excuse or it’s one of your many secrets.”

He’d had enough of Diablo’s secrets to last him a lifetime.

Diablo set his fork down and took his time chewing before answering. “I just burned hella calories earlier. My stomach’s running on fumes.”

He gave Brett a look, as if waiting for him to pop the million-dollar question.

Not one to disappoint, Brett said, “How badly did it hurt?”

Diablo cocked his head, eyebrows knitting together. “That’s the burning question on your mind?”

“You’re right.” Brett grabbed one of the glasses of milk—a bizarre pairing with their meal—but it was refreshingly cold as it slid down. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Do we need to worry about it happening spontaneously while out in public? Clearly the people here know, but I’m pretty sure you’d send strangers on the street into a panic.” He placed a hand on his chest. “I mean you looked like you were in serious agony. I had no idea how to help you!”

Brett leaned back, breathless, using the milk-splotched napkin to dab his forehead.

“I don’t like seeing you in pain,” he mumbled, staring at the barely touched pie, his appetite gone.

He really cared about Diablo. What started out as simple flirting, with the potential for sex, had turned into something a lot deeper for him.

Those early-morning calls, sparked by Brett wanting to hear Diablo’s voice before starting his day. The way Diablo had sat silently beside Brett, simply being there for him after the ordeal with his uncle and Jack.

The way Diablo looked at him, like Brett was someone worth spending time with.

Honestly, whatever Diablo was didn’t matter that much to him. What truly mattered was that Diablo was there and was genuinely present with him.

“I’m not, pajarito.” Diablo reached over and wrapped his hand around Brett’s. “I’m a wolf shifter, but I have two forms that live inside of me. Remember the story I shared about being attacked?”

Brett nodded, comforted by the warm hand resting on his.

“They injected me with something that locked my beasts inside. Tonight was the first time they almost broke free.”

Brett listened intently, trying to wrap his head around what Diablo was saying. “Why now?”

Diablo’s jaw clenched. “They went ballistic when I discovered it was an alpha who did this to me, when I learned his name.”

Things started to make sense. “That SUV you chased after.”

“You figured out what I was doing?” Diablo frowned.

“It wasn’t difficult, especially when that guy gave you such a smug salute.”

At the time, he assumed it was just some jerk envious of Diablo’s motorcycle or something equally petty. He didn’t realize what the gesture really meant.

“You stopped chasing him because of me. Because I was with you.”

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