Page 38 of Ren: Warlord Brides
The cook top was two heating elements, far too close together to use two regular-sized pots at the same time. The counter was narrow but clean. The under-counter cooling unit was slim, but at least nothing stank when she cracked open the door. The overhead cabinet was filled with bowls of packaged instant noodles. So many noodles.
“Is this what you eat?” she asked as Ren reappeared, hair wet from a shower. He wore a loose-fitting, cream-colored knit shirt and stretchy tan pants. The ensemble should not have been eye-catching, but it worked on him. Then again, he had the type of frame that looked good in anything.
Or nothing.
That chest… Even covered in sand and sweat, or maybe because of the sand and sweat, she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him.
Ren raised an eyebrow when he noticed her practically licking her chops.
Right. Not real. Just convince him to help Gemma.
The thought should have been as effective as a cold shower because, hello, sister in peril. Yet her body just wasn’t buying what her brain insisted on selling.
Ren struck a dramatic pose and leaned against the wall, all cocky confidence and attitude that really should have been obnoxious instead of hot.
“They provide adequate nutrition,” he said.
Her heart hurt. First, no one who ate that packaged stuff deserved to look as good as him. Second, adequate nutrition?
“That’s no way to live, and what’s the sodium on these things?” The print on the package was a little too small for her to read. She continued to poke through the cabinets. More noodles with various animals and vegetables on the wrapper to indicate flavor. “Do you have anything that’s not packaged? Do you have a hydroponic garden? Even for herbs?”
“I do not spend enough time on board to justify—”
“Flavor is all the justification you need.” She tossed the package onto the counter and pulled out a box of tea. The cooling unit had a carton of artificial eggs. Good enough. She’d make it work.
As water boiled for the tea, she tore the lid off a bowl and the noodles self-heated. Quickly, she added some egg mixture and stirred it until cooked.
“Eat,” she said.
He took a bite. “It’s good.”
“No, it’s adequate.” She prepared her own bowl. The package had some colorful fish on the label, and the flavor was an insult to her taste buds. At least it filled an empty stomach.
“The tea is good,” she said, trying to be positive.
“Yes, Thalia enjoys that flavor. I always try to keep some in stock for her.”
Her back went up at the mention of another woman.
“Oh?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice casual and not at all jealous. Of all the talking they did on Pashaal’s ship—and really, it was nothing—they never discussed what they had done in the past four years or the people they spent it with. Did Ren have a girlfriend on the side?
“Thalia is Havik’s mate. Havik is my friend. We own the ship together.” He paused. “Thalia is also my friend. Our food supplies also displeased her.”
“Good. I mean, not good that your diet is rubbish but, er, good that she’s not your girlfriend?” Emry closed her eyes, wishing she could take back the awkward words. But she kept on talking and the words kept getting more mortifying. “I haven’t, you know, dated anyone since… well, you. If you had, we didn’t say we wouldn’t, so I guess that’s okay, but I’d rather it stopped now.” She sucked in a deep breath. “If you don’t mind.”
Ren’s eyes scrunched up at the corners as if in amusement. “I appreciate your clarity.”
“Oh, now you’re teasing me.”
He grinned, a horrifying display of lips pulled around tusks and sharp teeth. Objectively, he looked like a devil or worse, but the mirth in his eyes and the cozy kitchen setting made him appear… almost cute.
Huh.
Ren was not cute. She’d seen him stripped down to nothing but muscles and sweat. He was not built for cuteness. And she’d seen him in action, deftly incapacitating his opponents. He was hot, maybe not by a conventional metric, but hot all the same. Smoking hot or whatever level of hotness was beyond that. Incendiary? The man was so not cute.
But right here, right now, slurping down a bowl of generic fish-flavored noodles, he was so fucking cute she couldn’t stand it.
“I will order fresh supplies before we leave the station,” he said.
