Page 18 of Hinder
“We’re good.” Trent moves to the fridge and pulls out a pitcher of iced tea. Or rather the tea pretending to be tea, because it’s bitter without sugar. I don’t understand, but it’s the way they serve it in California.
I wet a towel and finish cleaning the mess I made. The enticing aroma of cinnamon baked bread goodness wafts in the air and my belly grumbles. These are going to be so good. “What time do we leave tomorrow?”
“Eight in the fucking morning.” Austin groans.
“Someone not an early bird?” I raise my eyebrows to give him a hard time.
“God, don’t tell me you are?” He groans again, but this time there’s a trace of a smirk on his lips.
I wince and shrug. “Don’t hold it against me.”
The timer pings a few minutes later and I pull the buns out to cool on a rack, after I pour the icing on top. Perfection.
Austin pops off his chair and struts to my end of the kitchen island. With only a pan of baked goods between us, my body is fully aware of how close he is. I try not to stare at his muscled chest or the tattoos that sprawl down the sleeves of his arms, but it’s useless. He’s the gorgeous famous bad boy, and as dangerous as it is, I can’t help but be drawn to the lure. I lift my gaze and I’m met with a wicked grin.
“God, I need that in my mouth.” His gaze darts to the pan of sticky buns before it returns to mine.
“Don’t, it’ll burn,” I warn, proud that my voice holds confidence even though I’m a melted puddle at the very thought of Austin’s mouth on mine.
“I can handle the heat.” He holds my gaze and lifts his glass of iced tea to take a drink.
I doubt we’re talking about the cinnamon rolls. “Can you?” I raise my eyebrows with challenge.
He nearly chokes on his beverage.
“He’s full of shit.” Trent glances up from his cell phone and rolls his eyes. “Ask him who ate the most wings at lunch?”
Austin narrows his glare and points across the counter. “You cheated!”
“Admit defeat, man. No one loves a sore loser.” Trent’s grin is teasing, and he shoots me a conspiratorial wink which only riles up Austin more.
“Fuck you.” Austin holds up his middle finger.
Trent meets my gaze and lets loose a chuckle. “He loses every damn time, but I’ll give it to him, boy never stops trying.”
I open my mouth to ask how many times they’ve held such a contest, but before I do, a deep voice bellows from the front of the house. “Anyone home!”
“Back here!” Trent shouts, his lighthearted demeanor evaporating in an instant.
“It’s Bedo.” Austin leans forward, closing the space between us. “He’s retired CIA. Be cool.”
“What?” I press down the front of my dress and reach for my hair, ensuring all the locks are pinned back into my loose braid.
“He’s giving you shit.” Trent walks over and catches Austin with a punch to his arm.
“The fuck.” Austin rubs his arm. “Trent’s too nice. Watch yourself. Bedo’s a fucking shark.”
8
Leighton
“So,you all ran off in a hurry.” My uncle walks ahead into the kitchen, finds an empty space against the counter, and narrows his stare at the guys. He taps his toe almost inaudibly against the stone flooring and glares.
I slide into the kitchen and find a place on the wall.
Trent shrugs. “You found us.”
“Yeah.” Bedo turns his attention to the young woman in the room. “Who’s this?”
