“Why is that in this fridge?” Matthew set the pan down and glared. “That’s supposed to be in the fridge in the back. What if someone showed up? What if Randy had come in for that beer? Or wanted cream for coffee? Seriously, Gavin, you need to work with me here. I’m lying my buttons off trying to come up with reasonable backstories and f*******: accounts that don’t exist and you’re leaving bags of blood in the blessed fridge. What would Dyball say if one of the O’Connell babies came out of the kitchen clutching one of those things and asking what it was? Highly irresponsible. You should know better.”
“Okay, wow.” Gavin set the bag on the counter and leaned against it. He eyed Matthew. “If you want to ask me, just ask me. Don’t get mad at me because you can’t get your mind out of my pants a
