Page 68 of Protecting Love

He scrubbed his hands over his face, washed up under the cool spray, then shut the water off with a snap of his wrists.

Once he was dried off, he pulled on underwear and shorts, then made his way back to the kitchen.

“Change your mind, Dad?”

“Dude,” Stefan whispered, though it wasn’t much of one since he heard it. “Your father is ripped.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ian said, his voice drier than sandpaper.

He held the laugh in.

“No. I’m grabbing some more of this. It’s good shit. You’ve got a talent for sure.”

“You think?” Ian asked.

He dumped some in a smaller bowl. “Yep. Beats the shit we were served tonight.”

“There is pizza left if you want it.”

“Nah, we got food after, but I could use something sweet. Enjoy your night.”

He grabbed a bottle of water with the popcorn and made his way back to his room.

And because he was just lining himself up for punishment, he pulled his phone out and snapped a picture to send to Paris.

Not five seconds later another one came up on his phone.

This one a picture of chocolate chip cookies in a sleeve of plastic.

That shit will destroy your insides. Mine’s homemade.

The bubbles flashed, then stopped. Flashed some more. Stopped again.

He put his phone down. He ate more popcorn.

Then the phone buzzed next to him.

He looked down to see Paris calling.

He could send her to voicemail. But he wouldn’t. He still had to watch out for her.

“Yes,” he said.

“Where did you get that?”

“In my kitchen,” he said, munching.

Funny how much easier it came to him now that there were streets and buildings between them.

“No,” she said, dragging the single word out. “Where did you buy it?”

“I didn’t. My son made it tonight.”

“He made it?”

“That’s what I said.” He put more in his mouth and crunched a little louder.

“That’s rude. You’re supposed to share.”