He shrugged. “Any threats. I figure when a pretty lady offers to cook a guy breakfast, he should make sure the area is safe, you know?”
What kind of upbringing did this kid have to be looking for threats before being able to relax enough to eat scrambled eggs?
She made her way through the empty room to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, which was surprisingly stocked. “How about cheesy eggs, bacon, sausage, and some biscuits and gravy?” Turning around, she took in Greg’s widened eyes.
He nodded and swallowed, looking like a hungry puppy.
Glancing past him, she bit back a grin at seeing Heath and Denver nodding as well, their expressions just as full of hope as Greg’s.
Ryker, on the other hand, leaned against the wall, his arms already crossed and what could best be described as a scowl marring his rugged features.
“This might take me a little while.” She jerked her head at Greg. “Find some bowls and pans, would you?” Maybe if she gave him a couple of tasks, he’d relax. She began drawing food from the fridge to place on the smooth granite countertop.
Greg launched into motion and tore open cupboards. “There’s nothing here,” he whispered, sounding nearly heartbroken.
“I have cooking stuff. Be right back.” Denver turned on a heel and quickly disappeared out the door.
“Thank God,” Greg muttered.
Heath chuckled. “I told you he was nesting.”
Ryker cleared his throat. “Right now, Greg and Heath down to my office. We’ll work until Zara calls us for breakfast. I’ve seen her cook—it ain’t fast, but the end result is awesome.”
“How about you guys work here? I’d love to know what’s going on.” If the kid was in legal trouble, she could even help. She gave Greg her most encouraging smile.
Greg smiled back, but his eyes darkened at the same time. “I think we should go to the office.” He glanced longingly at the eggs. “We’ll hurry if you will.”
So the kid didn’t want her to know his business? “I’m a paralegal, and I may be able to help you,” she said softly.
He met her gaze then, his looking much older than it should. “Ryker’s correct that you’re a nice lady, and I appreciate your offering to help me, but there’s nothing you can do. It’s better if you don’t know about me. Please don’t mention me to anybody.” He turned and headed for the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
Heath followed him into the hallway.
Ryker didn’t move and caught her gaze. “The kid is right. I don’t know his story yet, but I will, and something tells me it ain’t going to be pretty.”
She lifted her chin, her heart aching for all of them. “You said you wanted something real with me.”
“I do.”
“Then you can’t leave me in the dark. Not like this.” Everything in her wanted to soothe that desperate look in Greg’s young eyes. She’d never been very maternal, but there was something about him she wanted to heal. “I might be able to help.”
“You’re a paralegal, and part of your job is keeping confidences. My job is the same way, and I can’t talk about many of my cases.” Ryker spoke evenly, his body relaxed, his tone as firm as steel. “Our work doesn’t define our relationship, and you know it.”
Yet something told her that he was leaving way too much out. She didn’t even understand enough about his past to know what questions to ask him.
He shoved away from the wall. “Do you want help with making breakfast?”
She tried not to smile. Ryker was a disaster in the kitchen, and she knew that firsthand. “Thanks, but you go get the story from Greg.” If the kid needed privacy to tell his story, she’d give it to them. For now.
He nodded, amusement tilting his lips. “Fair enough. Give a shout when breakfast is ready.” Turning, he paused at the doorway and looked back, his eyes warming into a soft green, banishing the blue. “It’s really nice of you to cook for everybody, and I hope you know how much I appreciate it.”
Well now, if he was going to be all sweet with her, she’d have to struggle with remaining protective of her heart. Unless he’d finally let her in? “Secrets can’t work between us, Ryker,” she mused.
He paused. “If I have secrets, they need to stay buried for both of us. Trust me.”
Denver showed up with two boxes in his hands. “I have pots and pans as well as some mixing bowls.”
Ryker frowned and took the boxes. “Jesus. You are nesting.”
Why did that sound like such a bad thing?
*
Ryker loped into his office, where both Heath and the kid had already dropped into guest chairs.
“I like your office,” Greg said, his gaze on the picture of the Fat Boy.
“Thanks. You’ve seen it before when you bugged us.” Ryker went around the desk. “Isobel Madison. Who is she?”