Not My Brute (Angels of War Series #2)

Chapter Twenty

I insist on doing the dishes after we finish up with dinner. Bret argues until I take the liberty of cleaning up the plates from the coffee table when he announces he's going to the toilet. Routing around in the cupboard underneath the sink, I find the dishwasher tablets, popping one into the machine when I finish loading the dirty dishes and pans inside.

"You tidied up?" Bret says, making me jump.

I spin around and smile, "I did." said smile disappears, turning into a gasp when Bret lets his hair out of the bun it was tied up in earlier.

He runs his hand through the curly strands, reaching for the headband on the kitchen side to pull the loose strands away from his face. "I told you not to. I can do it in the morning."

"You could sleep knowing there's a mess down here?" Heck, I couldn't drive home knowing there's all the mess still laid out in the kitchen.

Bret grabs a glass from the side and heads over to the kitchen to fill it with water, glugging it down in no time. "I spent way too much time worrying about being tidy in the army. It feels good to relax and do things at my speed."

I get it. Rules can be demotivating, especially when it's your job to live by them. "I bet you get off on knowing there's housework to be done, don't you?"

Bret rolls his eyes, sarcastically saying, "Oh, yeah, I have to go beat off the tension in the toilet most days."

"Bret!"

He shakes his head. "You went there with your weird suggestive question. Don't look at me like I'm in the wrong."

It's hard not to stare at his face when he smiles. A rare occurrence that makes him ten times more handsome than he already is. I study him harder. "You're quite fun to be around after all."

"Gee, thanks," he barks, going to fill up the second glass of water.

I take a glass from where Bret picked up his one and wait for him to finish filling it before filling mine up too. "I didn't mean any offence. It's the truth. I've had fun spending time with you tonight. It's a great end to a shitty day."

Bret puts his empty glass in the sink, turning back to talk to me. "I'm glad to be of some help to you. I had fun too."

If his light laughs and jokes over dinner were anything to go by, I'd say he let his hair down tonight.

The clock on the kitchen wall ticks when we stand in silence. It's comfortable. The need to think of something to say not there.

My attention draws to Bret's bare feet when he pads over to the fridge/freezer, bending over to reach the bottom draw inside. He pulls out a plastic ice cream tub throwing it on the side, peeling back the lid to show me the contents.

"Ice cream cake," he grins, holding it closer.

"Oh," I shuffle more towards him. "What makes this cake then?"

"Everything that's bad for you. Vanilla ice cream, a crushed Crunchie bar, smashed Bourbon biscuits, a broken up chocolate bar and chocolate buttons and honey roasted nuts. Mum mixes them all together and re-freezes it."

Heaven in a bowl. I peep further into the tub. "Sounds wonderful."

Bret opens the drawer near his leg and pulls out two spoons, handing one over to me, keeping the other for himself. "Want to try a bit?"

I nod, practically drooling. "Yes, please."

He shoves the tub my way. "Go on then."

You don't have to ask me twice when chocolate is involved. The spoon slides in with a bit of force and comes right back out with a mountain of creamy goodness. I shove it all in my mouth and hum when the sweet taste explodes on my taste buds.