Page 44 of Heart Over Heels

After another bout of squirming, Callum settled in with his back against Colt’s chest while Colt peered over his shoulder at the book. His interest waned after a few seconds, and he took to nibbling Callum’s ear instead, making his brother giggle and twitch.

Beside them, Zephyr rolled a lollipop around in his mouth while studying Elliot’s paper creation in progress. Since moving out, the incubus did his showering at home, which I refused to believe was anything other than an excuse to get hot and soapy in Beck’s proximity.

The oven door swung open, and Oz pulled out a baking sheet that he whisked over to the table, where a trivet was already laid out.

“Hot pan!” he announced.

Callum closed his book, and Elliot tucked his paper away as Oz returned to the range to grab a pot of mashed potatoes and slide it in alongside the baking sheet.

I recognized the potatoes, topped with diced chives and a pat of butter, but the crispy, brown and beige discs on the pan were less easily identified.

Colt must have thought the same because he jabbed a finger at them.

“What the fuck are those?”

Oz peeled off his mitts and dropped into the empty chair beside me. “Cabbage steaks.”

Zephyr, our spoiled vegetarian, made a happy sound as he stabbed his fork into one of the discs and transferred it to his plate.

Colt wrinkled his nose at the food. “I’ll say it again. What thefuck?—”

“You cut a head of cabbage into thick slices and drizzle them with oil,” Oz explained. “Add seasoning and bake.”

“Should’ve known it from the smell,” Elliot muttered while reaching for the potatoes. He dished himself a hearty scoop then passed the pot to Callum.

Colt continued to gawk. “Are we just puttin’ words together now? Cabbage steak?” He scoffed. “I can do that. Carrot burger. Lettuce lasagna. Corn hot dog?—”

“You mean corndog?” Callum asked while piling potatoes onto their shared plate.

Colt paused, squinted, then groaned. “Aw, shit. I love corndogs.”

Zephyr perked up from where he was dutifully cutting his cabbage into cubes. “You might like cabbage steak too.”

I was just waiting for him to spear a piece and offer it out like a mother bird, but Colt was already retreating.

“Go to hell, Cherry.” He slid out from under Callum and stood. “I’m ordering a pizza.”

“At four in the morning?” Beck asked, having appeared out of nowhere to stand framed in the doorway Colt had angled toward.

Vegas had a lot of things, including twenty-four-hour pizza delivery, but Beck wasn’t a fan of us opening the doors after hours. Considering the liquor shipment fiasco a few days ago, I couldn’t blame him.

Thwarted, Colt propped a fist on his hip in a full-blown pout.

If Beck was ever startled by our varying degrees of undress, he didn’t show it. His gaze didn’t so much as twitch towardColt’s thong, which was barely doing its job of concealing the essentials. Instead, he glanced over at me.

“Darby, have you seen the new guard?” He raised a letter-sized envelope with Mercer’s name scribbled across it. “I need to give this to him.”

I stood, tugging the sides of my robe closer and cinching the tie. “Pretty sure he went home.”

Beck frowned and considered the envelope again. “I was hoping he could get this in his bank before the weekend. Zephyr mentioned he was looking for direct deposit forms, and we also forgot to have the guy fill out a W-2. So I’ve cut him a check in the meantime.”

He crossed the room to where Zephyr sat, slid a hand around the incubus’s cheek, and pulled Zephyr’s head affectionately against his hip.

Beck’s eyes softened as he chuckled down at the incubus. “Running a real tight ship, aren’t I?”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Colt agreed. He was elbow-deep in the freezer, rooting for something he could prepare with the only kitchen appliance he knew how to operate: the microwave.

Oz and Callum diced up their cabbage steaks while Elliot proceeded to make a meal solely of mashed potatoes. My stomach growled at the sight.