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No answer.
I knocked harder. “Mattie,” I shouted through the door. “Your parents want you downstairs.”
A muffled thump was followed by a fluid string of curses, and then a few seconds later, Mattie cracked open her door. Her silky, blond hair tumbled down her face and shoulders from a messy bun on its last legs, and she had a gum wrapper stuck to her cheek. She yawned, leaning her head on the doorpost. “What?”
I plucked the wrapper off her face. “Your parents have summoned you.”
She blinked up at me with sleepy eyes, her rosy lips parting on a sigh. “Oh.”
She was so fucking cute, I wanted to stab myself in the eyes to put myself out of my misery. “I’ll make you some coffee.”
She gave me a wary glance. “For real?”
I brushed a long strand of her hair away from her flushed cheek. “And then we can meet Tabitha at the airport.”
She glared. “Coffee sounds great.”
We met Mrs. Thorne downstairs in the dining area after Mattie had finished two cups of coffee and given herself a crazed pep talk that made me roll my eyes so many times, I had a headache. Or maybe it was the lack of sleep. In BUD/S, I’d gone almost a week with no sleep once, but this felt more manic. Uncontrolled. Like I was doing it to myself rather than having it done to me for a purpose.
Mattie had put on a pair of tight, white jeans that hugged her diminutive curves, and her dark, floral blouse had a heart-shaped cutout over her breasts and up to a tied choker around her neck. Then she’d softly curled her hair and pulled it off to one side, so it cascaded down her breasts and bounced as she walked. She looked stunning, and I wanted to tear it all off like birthday wrapping paper.
Mrs. Thorne looked up as we approached, her eyes dipping over Mattie in appreciation, and then lingering on me for an uncomfortably long moment. I couldn’t decide what was worse, the fact that she found me attractive, or the fact that she liked what a monster I was. It made my stomach turn.
She gestured to the long, glass dining table that had been covered with napkins folded in an array of options. “You said napkins,” she said with a point of her manicured finger.
Mattie’s gaze scanned the napkins. “That’s… a lot of options.”
“Now, don’t be deceived,” Alicia said, moving to her daughter’s side in her six-inch heels. She took Mattie’s shoulders in a light grip, and the way Mattie flinched had me tightening my fists at my sides. “There’s so much more than just pointing and choosing.”
“Of course,” Mattie sighed.
“Let’s start with fabric choices, and then we can move on to color.”
Mattie rolled her head back in annoyance. “Is there a theme for this shindig?”
“Gold harvest, of course,” Alicia said, like that was the obvious choice.
“Right. So,” Mattie pointed to a gold napkin that had been tucked and folded into the shape of a pumpkin. “That fits.”
“Matilda,” her mother snapped sharply. “I just said you can’t point and choose.”
Come on, Mattie, I pleaded silently from behind her. Pull it together. You said you wanted this. Don’t make me play the bad guy.
“Right,” Mattie sighed, long and slow. “Okay. Show me the fabric.”
My shoulders relaxed some of the tension they’d been holding. Alicia moved forward, pointing out the differences between the linen napkins and the linen-cotton, and then moved on to bamboo, cotton, silk, jacquard, damask, and a cotton-silk blend. Mattie looked like she would rather have the napkin rings shoved up her ass than continue listening, but she persevered. At the end of Alicia’s lengthy discourse on the merits of each one, Mattie pointed to the gold pumpkin. “I like the cotton-silk blend.”
Alicia hesitated, her hard blue eyes fixing on her daughter with dagger-point penetration. “I do like cotton-silk blends.”
“Good,” Mattie said with a disingenuous smile. But her low simmering anger showed through as she bobbed a look to me.
Alicia followed the motion, her gaze settling on me, and suspicion suddenly tinted her expression.
Fuck.
“Colors,” Alicia went on.
“Gold,” Mattie said automatically. “It matches the theme. Next?”
