Page 21 of Bent Out of Shade
“C’est moi,” Laurent said in a muffled voice.
Oh, good, because I’d felt vaguely guilty about how hard I was ogling this stranger. Let the guilt-free ogling commence! On second thought, I wrested my gaze away from Laurent’s butt, thinking only the chastest of thoughts in front of his aunt.
Like how I wanted to curl up against him, my cheek pressed to his chest, wrapped up in a hug, and let all my stress wash away.
“Hey, Huff ’n’ Puff.” I pulled my hair free of its messy bun and ran my fingers through it to fluff up my curls.
Tatiana peered into a mixing bowl containing a brown gloopy mess, holding a wooden spoon over it like a wand that would transform the mush into something edible.
“You cook?” I leaned across the island from her.
Tatiana stabbed the concoction before yanking the spoon out. “How do you think I feed myself?”
“Sucking the marrow from the bones of your enemies? Takeout?”
Laurent barked a laugh, hit something hard enough for us to hear the thud, and then swore.
I almost offered to kiss it better. Then I could work my way down to the ticklish divot on his right hip and— Chaste thoughts, Feldman.
“This isn’t cooking,” Tatiana said. “It’s baking.”
“It is?” I scrunched up my face.
Laurent emerged from the cupboard, rubbing his head, ratchet in hand. He was deliciously rumpled, his brows furrowed in a tiny scowl and his lush lips in a pout. There was a smear of dirt across one bicep. “She offered to make me cookies in exchange for dealing with the sink.”
“Should have asked to read the fine print beforehand,” I said. “Like whether she could bake.”
He dropped the ratchet into the toolbox and wiped his hands on a rag. “I thought she’d have Marjorie make them as usual. Marjorie makes very good cookies.”
“Not as good as mine,” I said snippily.
Tatiana snorted, dumping the bowl’s contents into the trash. “You weren’t supposed to know it was Marjorie all those times.”
“No wonder your assistant doesn’t make you cookies, Tatiana,” I said. “You force her into ghostbaking yours. Shame on you.”
“It’s the thought that counts.” Tatiana tossed the bowl and spoon into the sink.
“Not when it comes to cookies,” Laurent said sulkily. “Alors, your drain is unclogged.”
“Thank you, Lolo.” She sat down at the table, rubbing her temples. “Oy. That was exhausting.”
I stifled a laugh. This entire exchange had done wonders to elevate my mood. I’d still take a Laurent hug, though.
“Leave the toolbox,” she said. “Emmett can put it away.”
“Walk me out?” Laurent raised an eyebrow at me.
“Sure.” That sounded appropriately casual for the modern, sexually empowered woman I was, and oh dear Lord, did I want to jump him. I followed him down the hallway. “Did you find the dyb—”
He nudged me up against the wall, bracing a hand to one side of my head. With his other, he traced along the gash in my camisole. “Trouble tonight?”
My heart pounded and I took a deep breath, my chest rising and falling and the fabric settling back into place with a soft swish. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’ll fill you in when I have more time.”
Laurent ripped open portals to Gehenna when he tossed dybbuks back in, though it was a one-way deal, thankfully, and more didn’t fly out when he dispatched them back there. That ability, however, plus my sneaky Banim Shovavim ways might be enough to get me to the Ascendent, but I wanted to bask in his concern right now, not deal with his anger when he learned of my bargain with the Leviathan.
“Okay.” His eyes darted to my décolletage, but he dropped his hand with a quick head shake. “I owe you a date.”
“You do.” Inhaling his rich cedar scent, I wrapped my arms around his chest.
