Because, obviously, I have a death wish.
Connor walked into the kitchen. Glyn was leaning over the sink, his eyes fixed on something off to one side of the back yard. Still uncertain of his welcome in the house–Glyn’s territory, as Levi described it–, Connor stayed carefully at the other side of the room and cleared his throat.
“What, tart?” Glyn said without looking. The tone wasn’t welcoming, but it wasn’t actively hostile, either.
Connor took another cautious step into the kitchen. “I was going to start lunch.”
“So, start it. I don’t care.”
“I need the sink.”
“Too bad. I’m busy.” He smiled at whatever it was that was happening in the yard.
Connor craned his neck, but only caught glimpses of movement at the side of the window.
“You won’t see anything from over there.” Glyn shifted half a step to the right.
“Will I be safe standing next to you?”
Glyn shrugged. “At this distance? Probably.” He waited until Connor was beside him before adding, “Just in case, the first aid kit is under the sink.”
Girl, we need to talk about what’s happening with this series.