I can hear the smile in his voice.
TEN
SHENANIGANS
Ava
When I wake, I find myself in the same position as last night, except my leg is over his. I try my best to lift my leg slowly, not wanting to wake him, but it doesn’t work. His breathing speeds up and he turns his head, his eyelids heavy.
“How was your sleep?” he asks in a deep, sleepy voice.
I sigh with relief. “Much better.”
“Me too,” he replies.
“I’d better get up and start breakfast,” I say as I sit up in bed and scoot over, putting my legs over the edge of the bed.
“Don’t worry about it. We have plenty left over from last night.”
I stand and turn to him. “It’s my job.”
“I’ll pay you your leave entitlements.”
I crack a grin. “Well, in that case, I’ll go down and clean. I can only imagine the sight of it from last night.” It makes me cringe.
“You love it!”
My chin lifts. “There’s nothing wrong with having a clean kitchen.”
He looks at me with warmth in his eyes. “It’s been great having you here.”
Happiness ricochets right through me. “Did you want me to help with anything else today?”
“Hmm...” His eyes flare in recognition. “I do, actually.”
I stare at him, waiting for an answer. “I want you to rest and—”
“I don’t think so... and what else?”
“Can you check out the window to see if the clothes are still on the line?”
I step over to the window. “They sure are.”
“They don’t even cook anymore, and they still can’t get the clothes off the line.” Annoyance coats his voice.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”
He smiles. “No, it’s fine, I will.”
I proceed to the door but pause and turn to face him. “I’ll do your washing for you from now on.” I walk out. Other women touching his clothes is not something I like.
After getting the leftovers ready for breakfast and finishing cleaning up the kitchen, I walk outside to greet Conan, who’s sitting by his kennel. In my hand is the leftover food scraped off people’s plates. When he sees me, his tail wags. He stands and stretches before walking over to me, then sniffs the air as the food catches his attention.
“Sit!” I say firmly. When he does, I place the plate in front of him. He stares at it with bulging eyes and drool coming from his mouth. “Eat!” He stands and goes for it—well, rather, shovels it in.
The back door opens, and Reaper walks out. When he sees me, he smirks and shakes his head. “You’re going to make that dog obese.”
Offended, I drop my jaw. “He was too skinny before!”
