Razor Strike by Lee Sarpel

Author:Lee Sarpel [SARPEL, LEE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nova Civitas Press

Chapter Fourteen

Eric disengaged himself from Trez and went into his bedroom. When he returned, she’d burrowed her head into the couch. He tossed a blanket at her. She reacted by tussling with it in surprise until she figured out what it was. She tucked it around herself and peered at Eric. “This your way of saying you don’t want me to put clothes on?”

“Thought you might get cold while I made dinner.”

“I get to lounge on the couch while you prep?”

“Unless you want anything fancy.” He was feeling magnanimous, but all the generosity in the world wouldn’t improve his cooking skills.

She yawned. “Guess I don’t feel much like going out.”

“It’s a cube night then. I’ll also make dessert if you want it.” He pulled his pants back on and whistled while he went to the counter.

The dehydrated cubes were easy to cut, heat, and prep. He could watch her shift around, all sleepy and cute, while he plated the food.

“I should put my clothes back on before eating,” she said.

“Why? I like the view.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Because I’m cold, like you said.” Trez sounded as if she might fall asleep before dinner. Well, he’d let her rest once he got some food in her.

“Blanket’s not enough? Fair.” The thermostat didn’t go above fifteen; he hadn’t paid for that feature.

She dressed and made her way over to the table with the blanket wrapped around her. She brought up a private screen on her comm. Maybe she didn’t feel like talking right now. He didn’t want to press her, so he pushed the food in front of her and waited for her to notice. When she did, she ate absently.

His doortone buzzed. Who would— Sam must be letting herself in downstairs. Of all the times to stop by …

“Who’s that?” Trez asked.

“Just Sam. Ignore her.”

Her brow furrowed, but she looked back at her comm. “If you say so.”

Samantha opened the door. Eric wondered what impression she was getting from finding him shirtless with Trez here. Probably the right one, he concluded. Her hair was scrabbled back in a brown ponytail, and there was a smudge of grease or dust on her neck. There had no doubt been more on her apron. She’d come directly from work then.

“Yo,” he said.

“Bonsoir.” Sam kicked off her boots, which had gray spatters on them. Eric didn’t think those were for fashion. Her jacket had dark patches on it, and one of the sleeve cuffs was fraying. She tended to dress drably at work to save money, and because work clothes would get easily ruined. “Oh, hey. You’re … Trez, right? Eric talks about you.”

Trez looked up from her display and blinked. “Uh … yes. And you’re Sam.”

Sam looked up and down Trez. “Ah … yes. Keeping Eric company?”

“You could call it that,” Trez replied. It sounded more like a question. She avoided eye contact with Sam.

Time to step in. “What are you here for?” Eric asked.

Sam hung up her jacket. “Left some tools here. Thought I’d pick them up.

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