Page 99 of Brandon’s Mate
Kitty recovered herself. “Well, if no one else wants it…” She took the plate and scraped the pancake off it onto hers.
“I want a Colt .45,” Colt said, as Brandon ladled more batter into the pan.
“What, you think I’m Pancake Picasso? Eat your bacon.”
A few minutes later he served Colt another pancake. “In case you can’t figure out what that is, it’s this.” He gave Colt the finger.
Remy wandered over and looked at the pancake. “Really? ‘Cause it looks suspiciously like another dick.”
“No it’s not.” Brandon gestured with his spatula. “See the fingers in the fist? And the fingernail at the top?”
“That does not look like a fingernail. This is a dick,” Colt said.
Brandon shrugged. “Eat it or starve.”
Kitty gave him a thumbs-up. Colt began to eat, grumbling under his breath.
Remy said, “I’m not eating a dick or a finger.”
“Cool,” Brandon said. “I’ve already got yours here.”
After a minute he handed Remy a plate with three smaller pancakes on it. They spelled: FU2.
Remy nodded. “Fuck you very much,” he said politely.
“No, no. Fuck you.”
“No really. Fuck you.”
Kitty shook her head and poured herself more coffee.
Remy took his first bite of pancake. “Hey!” he said in surprise. “These are good.” He took another bite, looking awed. “They’re as good as Flynn’s.”
“It’s an alpha thing.” Brandon winked at Kitty.
“Alpha you are,” she said in a Yoda voice. “Magic pancakes you can make.”
He loaded another plate with a big pancake and handed it to Kitty. “Pass that out to Squatch, would you?”
She whirled around. The big man was sitting out on the porch floor, leaning against the railing. Kitty handed the plate and a fork through the open window. “Hey,” she said. “I didn’t notice you there.”
“No one ever does,” he rumbled.
Jason and Callie wandered in, Callie limping and looking wan and pale, but on her feet. Soon everyone was sitting wherever they could find, eating breakfast and insulting each other, occasionally passing butter or syrup out the window to Squatch.
It was beginning to feel like home.
