Page 3 of Laird Of Her Heart

“You do actually.” And then she added in a not-very-aside aside, “You snore too.”

“I most certainly do not snore.”

“Last night I thought you were running a chainsaw in your room.”

“As long as we’re laying out our grievances—”

“Were we? I thought we were just stating facts.”

“All right. Just stating facts. You might want to lay off the broccoli.”

Jenny bristled. “Just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just sayin’.”

“Are you intimating that I fart?”

“I think the scientific term is gaseous anomalies.”

“I do not fart!”

“Just remember, in the winter, don’t stand too close to the fireplace.”

“I… What?”

Maggie exploded a hand. “Ker-blooey.”

Jenny tried not to smile and failed. “You know what you are?”

“Awesome?” A, like, Valley girl cant.

“A wench. That’s what you are.”

“You love me and you know it.”

“I do. But you’re a wench.” She narrowed her eyes. “And it’s your turn to make dinner.”

“I don’t think I want to live with you after all.”

“Because I insist that we share the household duties?”

“Oh, no, I was referring to the flatulence.”

Jenny smacked her on the shoulder and chuckled. Then she sobered. “Seriously. It’s your turn to make dinner.”

Maggie grimaced. She hated cooking. With. A. Passion. “How about a salad?”

It was adorable the way Jenny’s nose curled up. The way she hacked and gagged. “No. Not salad.”

“If it’s my turn to make dinner, I get to pick the food.”

“Salad is not real food. Google it.”

“I could put bacon on it…”

“Even so, not real food. How about pizza?”

“You want me to make pizza? Do you remember the last time I put something in the oven?” Although the fireman who had responded to the blaze had been cute.