Protecting The Bad Boy

Chapter Fifteen

Picture of Cynthia's and Colton's dad here, an awesome actor (:

And breathe... I basically wrote this chapter in one go, which is so strange for me! Annnnnd a quick update, what the hell is wrong with me?

Also it's a quite emotional so here's your lil warning... (oh and not proof-read)

Song of the Chapter: Eyes Shut - Years & Years (I really recommend putting this on repeat when you read this chapter; it's what I did anyway).

~

Chapter Fifteen: Poker Hearts Still Feel

We ate in silence and at one point I actually contemplated the idea of leaving to use the toilet and not returning.

That however was ruled out of the question when I tasted just how good the food was, and man it was good.

I had never pinned Houston down for someone who could cook but I was proved wrong. I literally have to stop myself from moaning out loud because damn this is some awesome pasta.

I look up to see Houston smirking at me.

"What?" I ask harshly after I swallow.

"Just watching you enjoy your food," he smirks even wider. "Admit it, it's pretty amazing."

I roll my eyes but there's really no point. Although I'm not actually going to admit that Houston is right, he seems to have the magic talent to see through me. I might as well just continue eating, that's what you do if all goes wrong right?

"It's Saturday tomorrow, care to tell me what you do on Saturdays in hope that I can somehow avoid whatever it is."

He grins like a child. "The question Bambi," he starts, "goes more like, 'who do you do on Saturdays'?"

I scowl as a disgusting mental image pops into my head. "As lovely of an activity as that sounds, keep it away from my house." I warn, "you remember the rules don't you?"

"Of course," he smirks and there's a mischievous glint in his eye that screams trouble.

"Yo-"

My death threat is interrupted by the standard ringtone of my phone calling out on the counter.

I glare at Houston momentarily before hoping off the stool at the island table and making my way across the kitchen.

Checking the caller ID, my face breaks out into a huge smile as a picture of Colton making the ugliest face ever takes over the screen. I click accept and bring the phone to my ear.

"Cynnie," he chirps through the line.

"I thought you were on a case?" I ask, ignoring the manners the housekeepers taught me. There really was no time for friendly greetings here.

"It's nice to talk to you to Sis," he jokes and I can practically see his smiling with his teeth.

"Colton," I sigh, leaving the kitchen and Houston with his eyebrows raised.

Colton chuckles, "I'm in California right now, the rest of the guys haven't seen my phone yet."

On bigger missions you're put on a team, especially if it's in a different country. Colton was extremely well-liked by all of the other employees of our parents and not just because he was their son. Colton got the social gene, he was chatty and very easy to talk to. This was the reason he practically ruled our school when he attended.

"California?..." I trailed, that was way too far away. I couldn't help but think that this may be the work of my father, punishing us both for actually giving a damn about another human being.