“Like she was what?”

“Butter.”

I snort, but it has no conviction.

“Delilah, on the other hand—”

There’s a knock on the door. Speak the devil’s name, and she will find you.

“Yeah,” I call out, eager for a reprieve.

Delilah sticks her head in, her hair glowing in the light of the projector. “Hey. Y’all busy? Because I have cookies.”

“Cookies,” I repeat. Lord, this woman tempts me.

Her smile is wide and impish, making her cheeks plump like a chipmunk’s. “Don’t worry; they’re healthy.”

North and I exchange a look.

“Well,” she says, carrying in a plate, “as healthy as cookies can be.”

“Which means they suck,” I mutter, disgruntled as hell over my restrictive diet.

Her eyes flash. Extraordinary eyes, the color so light brown it’s startling. I’ve never been able to meet her gaze without feeling it deep in my gut. I wonder if she feels that weird hot zing that zips through the air whenever we’re together.

If she does, she’s not showing it. Instead she smiles brightly at North. “I guess that means these are for you.”

“Hey!” I protest, reaching for the plate.

Since I’m slowed down by my broken body, she easily evades me. “No, no, I insist. I wouldn’t want to serve you sucky food, Mr. Bossy Butt.”

Bossy butt?

North is grinning as he eats a cookie. “It’s good. What is this?”

Delilah beams. “Flourless dark chocolate with peanut butter chips. It’s high in protein.”

“I could eat an entire platter of them,” he says.

Delilah practically purrs. “You can have all the cookies you want.”

Fucking hell. One instance of jealous stupidity, and I’m paying for it.

“All right, brat,” I cut in, reaching again. “Give me a cookie.”

“Brat?” She sets a hand on her wide hips. “Is that supposed to convince me to give you one?”

“Are you or are you not my cook?”

Her eyes narrow, but I keep mine on the plate. She might dump those cookies on my head, and I’ll have to be quick. “That’s twice you’ve played your little lord-of-the-manor card.”

I grin, having fun. “What was the promise? Oh, right. The third time I do so, you make a jerk-off gesture.”

Delilah sets a hip against the back of North’s chair as she faces me. I don’t like the proximity of her butt to his head. At all. But she’s smirking at me with those pouty lips. “Let me save you the trouble.”

With her free hand, she makes a loose fist and pumps it. The gesture is expected, but not the bolt of heat that punches through my gut and goes straight to my cock.