Page 28 of Heart of Stone

“Stay,” I order.

They giggle again. Great. My intimidation tactics need work.

I open cupboards one-handed, searching for anything remotely breakfast-related. Beer, protein powder, more beer, some jerky… fuck. When’s the last time anyone actually cooked?

"Whatcha doing?"

I turn to find Andi in the doorway, Adam on her hip. Her hair’s a mess, her clothes are wrinkled from sleep, and there’s a pillow crease on her cheek.

She looks sexy as fuck, and my dick takes fucking notice.

“Pahcakes!” the twins yell.

“Is that right?” She raises an eyebrow at me. “And did we ask Hawk if he wanted to make pancakes?”

Two tiny faces swivel to me, suddenly uncertain.

“Peeze?” they ask in unison.

Damn kids are going to own my ass at this rate.

“Don’t know if I have any mix,” I admit.

“You do,” she says, adjusting Adam on her hip. “I grabbed some yesterday when the prospects moved stuff from our place. Bottom cabinet by the fridge.”

Sure enough, I spot grocery bags I hadn’t noticed, filled with actual food.

“I figured they’d want pancakes since it’s what they always demand at my place.” She crosses to the coffee maker. “Though I didn’t expect them to wake you up quite so early.”

“Seeping,” one twin says, pointing at her solemnly.

“So you decided to wake up Hawk instead?” She starts the coffee one-handed, like it’s second nature.

They nod, all innocence.

“Rascals,” she says, shaking her head before turning to me. “Sorry. They’re usually good about staying in their room until?—”

“It’s fine.” I pull out the pancake mix, frowning at the instructions. “Why does this have fifteen steps? How hard can pancakes be?”

Her laugh does something to me—something I don’t want to think about.

“Oh honey,” she says, still grinning. “Let me deal with Adam, and I’ll help before you burn down the kitchen.”

“I can handle it.”

“Uh-huh.” She smirks. “Just keep them from falling off the counter until I’m back.”

I glance at the twins, who are now reaching for the sink.

“Stay,” I growl again.

They giggle.

Definitely need to work on my intimidation tactics.

“Choc-it?” one of them asks hopefully.

“No chocolate,” I say firmly.