“I hope they taste good,” she started, looking through the glass oven door as my brother silently groaned, putting his head back at how perfect her ass looked in those leggings. My eyes flickered up innocently as she turned to toss me a smile.
“Should we make the frosting?”
“I already did,” I nodded towards the bowl I’d been working on off to the side to keep my hands busy. You know, so I didn’t do something rash like strip her bare, lay her out on the counter, and lick frosting off of her perfect body. Because I wasn’t a rash person. I was totally, completely relaxed. I promise.
“Oh good!” She smiled and took off her apron tossing it on the counter, “I’m going to go shower then, be right back.”
Both of us watched her jog upstairs. I narrowed my eyes at my brother who was staring at the apron. “Dude, no.”
I loved that apron on her. It was bright and colorful, filling this space with a homey touch I hadn’t known it needed. Every day Maya was here and every time that Marco ordered more shit for her, the house changed. I knew the baking material that was on its way was an assortment of bright colors from a lime green Kitchen Aid mixer to a set of pink and blue mixing bowls. It didn’t match the kitchen at all, but I loved the chaos of it more than I could ever express.
“What?” he asked quietly, running a hand through his hair.
“Youknowwhat,” I rolled my eyes.
“Where’s Maya?” Atlas walked in from outside, wet from the rain and looking concerned. I arched a brow as my brother said ‘upstairs’.
“Make sure she doesn’t leave the house tonight. Or anytime alone,” he grunted, “I have most of this fucking town under surveillance, and I haven’t seen or heard a fucking peep about Malcolm. I don’t like that at all.”
I nodded putting my head down, realizing that despite our relaxed fun afternoon, we still had a lot of fucking problems to work out. Unfortunately, cupcakes and smiles weren’t going to keep Maya safe. No. You needed something far scarier than that.
Luckily, I think we were the perfect people for the job.