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I raise my eyebrows. “Really?”
Her eyes meet mine, and it’s like they’re sending flaming rockets straight into my chest. “Yes, really. What if you sneak your tongue into my mouth, and I’m not ready? I don’t want to have to smack you.”
“You wouldn’t!”
She gives me a pointed look. “Of course I would.”
My eyes widen. “Whoa, okay. No tongue, then.” No need to complicate this further.
She nods. “Good. What about house rules?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. I’m not really home much. “What did you have in mind?”
“Maybe some sort of signal when there’s someone over? Sock on the handle of the, um, wing?” She glances around my sprawling home office, her ears red.
I breathe out a light chuckle. “That won’t be necessary. Don’t you remember? You can’t exactly date anyone during our arrangement.”
“I know, but the contract didn’t say anything about you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I say. “I never bring anyone home.”
She hesitates for a moment, then says, “All right. Don’t you have any rules you want to add? This is your house, after all.”
“Just be respectful of the material and the staff, I guess.”
“How many staff members work here, exactly?” Horror flashes across her face. “Do we have to pretend for them too?”
“I have a couple of gardeners who come a few times a week, cleaners who come in once a week, and a head housekeeper, Agnes. She cleans, cooks, and does the grocery shopping. She’s the only one who knows about our agreement. I’m not here often during the day, so it’s unlikely we’d have to pretend in front of the rest of the staff.”
“Okay. Then, I think we’re good.”
“Oh, one last thing,” I say, scratching my jaw. “No pets allowed in my house. I know you don’t have any, but in case you get bored as a housewife and want a distraction, that’s not happening.”
The color drains from her face. “Truffles. I totally forgot.”
“What?” I ask, trying to hide the panic in my voice.
“I just got a cat. Her name is Truffles. She’s about two months old, according to the vet’s estimate.”
I shake my head vehemently. “You’ll have to let her go. I don’t want a pet in my house. I’m allergic.” Plus, cats creep me out. They always seem to be scheming to ruin your life. Or your carpets. Or your chairs. Dogs are friendlier, but they require more attention. So, no animals. Maybe I’d go for a pet lizard.
She lets out a small shriek. “I can’t give her up. I just found her.”
I click my tongue. “Exactly. So, it shouldn’t be too hard.”
She scoffs and crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “I am not abandoning my cat.”
I ruffle my hair with a frustrated hand. “You knew that was a requirement. We asked you during the interview.”
“No, I didn’t know it was a requirement,” she snaps, matching my tone. “You just asked if I had pets. You never said it was a deal breaker! And it’s not in the contract either.”
“Well, it is now,” I growl, standing up. Why is she making this such a big problem? I’ll even find a home for the dang thing. As long as it’s not here.
“Then I’m not signing the contract,” she says, echoing my stance. “Good luck finding yourself a wife.”
With that, she storms out of my office.
7
