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“Thank fuck. I was worried I’d have to live with this the rest of my life because you were in love with it.”
Her eyes work over my face actively. “You’d put up with it if I liked it when you hate it?”
“No,” I tell her honestly.
Her forehead crinkles with confusion.
I lean in and put both hands on her thighs and squeeze.
“Once you finish falling in love with me, you’ll paint it to save me from the ongoing headache.” I touch my lips to hers and back up.
“What if I did love it?”
“Then I’d have kept my mouth shut for the moment. Maybe drop some hints about a compromise. Paint your home office that color and only go in there with these shades on.” I gesture to the shades tucked into my shirt. “So, bunny, what’s the verdict? Do you love your house as much in person as you did in pictures?”
I’m saved from answering his question by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and puts it to his ear with a little smile.
“Well, hello,” he drawls, eyes bouncing to me. “She’s right here. Why?”
I watch him moisten his lips with his tongue and then he says, “Ah. Yes, we’ve been busy. Here she is.”
He passes me the phone.
Alannah Fisher.
“Hey,” I say, my voice coming out scratchy.
My bag is still in his car. She probably called me first.
“You did not send your proof of life text, missy.”
“Shit, sorry,” I say, feeling my face flame. “I’m alive.”
He walks out of the room.
“Should I assume you’re fine going forward so not to expect them?”
“You should expect them,” I say softly, noting the footsteps have stopped. He’s probably standing directly outside the door, listening.
“Then you’re not fine?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I think. I… I don’t know. My morning was a little… crazy.”
She snorts. “Crazy morning with the crazy guy?”
“Pretty much.”
“Are you hurt? Hungry? Injured?”
“No, no, and no. Well… maybe hungry.”
“Didn’t you have that brunch thing with his family?”
“I did.”
“But?”
“But I didn’t eat.”
