“Wow,” I breathed again.
Had I mentioned before how surreal my life was?
Fluffy took another sip of coffee. “By the way, that also includes saving your life if the need arises, so the next time you feel like taking off without anyone knowing where you are, think again. I take my job very seriously, and while Lucas is a scary motherfucker, that won’t stop me putting you over my knee if you try something like you did this morning again. Understand?”
Lucas laughed. Laughed. “You know, Fluff, I’m almost hoping she does, just so I can watch you do that.”
“Hey.” I glared at him. At Fluffy. And at him again.
He grinned at me, stabbed a forkful of ratatouille, shoved it into his mouth and—still grinning—chewed it.
Yeah, he was a loveable son of a bitch alright.
Finishing my own ratatouille, I couldn’t help but wonder what my parents were going to make of the situation. Me, living in an amazing beachside house, with two guys. I had no idea how long Fluffy was going to be hanging around, but I suspected he wasn’t going anywhere until Lucas felt I was safe from his old life. Completely safe.
When would that be? In all honesty, I had no problems with the Marine living with us. Not when he cooked as well as he did. I couldn’t cook to save myself. Bake pastries and cakes? Sure. I was good at that. Well, except croissants. But cook meals? Nope. And Lucas…well, let’s just say as far as being a cook went, he was an incredible MMA fighter.
Would Mom and Dad think I was sleeping with them both?
My cheeks grew hot. God, I hope not. They were going to be back o
n land very soon. I’d have to start preparing myself for the inevitable conversation with them. Just not right now.
For the moment, I was in ostrich mode when it came to them.
At the sound of Fluffy crossing the floor to the table, I shut down the disconcerting thoughts of my parents.
“Think you need to see this, Lucas.” Fluffy placed an iPad on the table in front of Lucas.
Lucas scanned the screen. My stomach knotted at the way his jaw clenched. “Fuck.”
Oh boy, that didn’t sound good. “What’s wrong?”
He flicked me a quick smile. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” I leaned across the table and moved the iPad so I could see it.
On the screen was shaky video footage of Lucas punching Robby Walker’s father. Under the video scrolled the words Unknown man helps detain Andrew Singer.
As I watched, the footage changed to Lucas and I walking out of the police station, Lucas glaring at the crowd, me gaping at it in stunned shock.
“They didn’t get my good side,” Lucas muttered.
I frowned. There was no way he was agitated because of that. In my opinion, every side of Lucas was his good side. “What’s wrong?”
He stood, his face an unreadable mask. “Think I might go downstairs and work out for a while.”
And with that, he left.
I blinked.
Fluffy dropped into his vacated chair, picked up a fork and stabbed at what was left of Lucas’s dinner.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“He doesn’t like attention. Public attention. With so many skeletons in his closet, he worries what might be drawn out.”
“But he’s dealt with the skeletons. Those two corrupt cops. And Trinity. Right?”