Page 34 of Heat Transfer
Cor dipped his free hand into his pocket and checked the screen. “Ugh.”
“Luke?” My gut soured at the thought.
“Who else? Most of the people I talk to are in this house.”
I hip-checked him. “Dude, tell him to fuck off.”
Cor shrugged. “He’ll stop eventually.”
Irritation prickled through me, both at Luke for harassing him and Cor for accepting it. He’d mentioned getting overlooked in the past, so maybe he’d resigned himself to not speaking up, not going for what he wanted. However, life was short, and that approach was bullshit.
“How’s that been going for you so far?” My voice took on a sharper edge than intended.
Cor’s eyes widened, and he paused before entering the kitchen.
I bit my lip. Fuck. Not the best timing on my part. “Sorry.”
Cor shook his head and squeezed me against him. “You’re not wrong. Let’s go help with dinner for now though.”
We weren’t even dating, and here I was getting aggressive with him. The jealousy scorching through me at the mention of Luke surprised me. His ex had always annoyed me, even while I’d been with Aria, but I’d chalked that up to Cor deservingbetter. However, I couldn’t help but wonder if jealousy had been simmering on the back burner for a while now.
Declan hustled past us, the steam from the pot of green beans he carried fogging up his glasses.
“How is this taking it easy, Dad?” Cor asked. His father stood at the stove, one-handedly mixing something in a pot.
“Declan’s been helping me,” Mr. Brannon said. If I had to place bets, that was bullshit.
“Oh, so we’re all getting poisoned tonight?” Aislin grabbed a stack of plates and carried them toward the other room.
“I’m not that bad in the kitchen,” Declan yelled.
“My tenth birthday. I’ve never vomited so hard in my life,” Aislin called as she disappeared around the corner.
“Glad you joined us, Felix,” Mr. Brannon said, glancing back from the pot he stirred.
“Move over.” Cor stepped beside his dad and took the wooden spoon from him. My mouth watered at the creamy mashed potatoes, spread through with flecks of pepper and glistening with the golden sheen of butter.
“I can take it,” I said. Cor passed the potatoes to me by the handles, and he grabbed potholders and snagged the pork roast that hung out next to it.
“I’m not an invalid,” Mr. Brannon said, but instead of fighting us, he opened the fridge, most likely to grab something else he needed.
I followed the direction Declan and Aislin had gone and stepped into the dining room. Aislin was in the middle of putting out plates, and Declan fussed over where they were situated.
“Move that plate again, and I’m taking your fingers off,” Aislin snapped at him.
“Do it right the first time, and I wouldn’t have to,” he argued.
I bit back a snicker and placed the pot of mashed potatoes on one of the trivets. Cor followed suit, setting the roast down on the two potholders he’d used to carry it in on.
“You and Ollie need to tell him to retire.” Aislin nudged Cor’s side. “He shouldn’t be going to those jobs.”
“You think I haven’t tried?” Cor shot back. “I’m just second-in-command.”
The comment niggled in my brain, the same as the earlier one. I hated that he viewed himself that way, like he could be so easily overlooked. Putting up with Luke’s bullshit, not speaking up with his dad—did he not see how essential he was? Even with his family, he might be quieter, but Cor gave off a leveling force, keeping the more bombastic personalities in check. He worked through action, showed up when it counted, and the more I thought about it, the more that was what I responded best to.
“Well, you’re the oldest, Dec.” Aislin threw an accusatory finger at her other brother. “You tell him.”
Declan shook his head. “That’s like trying to lasso the wind. Hard pass. Last time I tried to give Dad advice, he showed me how to fix a plumbing issue in my house. It was torture.”