Chapter 3
The smell of ginger still drifted from the kitchen, though the remains from dinner were long gone. Mick watched the entrance through heavy-lidded eyes, silently willing Spencer to give up on the dishes and emerge. If he wasn’t so full, he would have gone in there to drag Spencer out, but he’d eaten two and a half helpings of some of the best homemade chicken stir fry he’d ever tasted, and the thought of moving from his comfortable position on the couch made him feel like belching. He wouldn’t risk that here. He was still firmly entrenched in the “Spencer has to think I’m awesome” phase, and burps were off the table for the time being.
His mental powers of persuasion were apparently on the fritz, since the doorway remained empty. With a frown, Mick slid his gaze to the bulging f
