Chapter 8Pitch watched the exchange in confusion. Something had happened, but they both acted as if it hadn’t. And then Pitch had made it worse by flirting with Shiro. Though he didn’t think Shiro had understood he’d been flirting.
He glanced at Astra, who was refilling the sugar bowl and stacking teacups, then he stepped into the kitchen area.
“You shouldn’t be in here. Health regulations.”
“You’re in here.” He watched Shiro to see if he’d look at him—he didn’t.
“I’m properly dressed. I have clean shoes, no jacket, sensible clothes…”
Pitched looked down at himself, then at Shiro. He had changed shoes and he wore an apron.
Damn, he should’ve left the jacket on his chair. Shrugging out of it, he hung it on a knob over a kitchen towel. The shoes he could do nothing about, being barefoo
