Cat squishes up her face in frustration.
The corner of my lips tilt with an impish smile. “Let’s see. The first thing on my list: When she gets mad, she’s adorable.”
“Conn—Mr.—Just please.”
“I know, I know. You want me to leave. The path to the door is a treacherous obstacle course worthy of spring training. What happened in here?”
Arms crossed, Cat gazes at the ceiling.
“I see socks. Lots of socks. All singles. Looks like you need a fairy sock mother.” I start to clean up, tossing all the socks in a pile. Then, I straighten the shoes and find their matches.
“Stop,” she says in a small voice.
“No. Not until I feel confident you’re not going to break an ankle.”
“I’m not?—”
This time, I interrupt. “You have to pack for tomorrow. That’s why I came back here. I’m going to be your fairy sock mother because you’ll need socks.”
“I can do it myself.” She reaches for the delicate black and white striped sock with a gold toe, run through with sparkly thread in my hand.
“I know you can do it. I’m helping. You’ll need to pack comfortable clothing. Things you don’t mind getting dirty. Plan for lots of time spent outdoors. Do you have anything like that?”
“Probably.”
“Think rain, mud, cold nights.”
“Where are we going?”
“To a wedding and?—”
“Mr. Wolfe?—”
I cock an eyebrow. “I’m Mr. Wolfe again?”
“You’ve always been Mr. Wolfe, even when you barge into my room uninvited.” Her accent slays me.
“You called me Connor before.”
She frowns. “I most certainly did not.”
“But ya did. In fact, you said, and I quote, ‘Thank you for everything today, Connor.’”
“I don’t sound like that.”
I give a half roll of my eyes at how stubborn she is. “As I was saying. First, we’re going to a wedding, then we’ll be spending some time outdoors. Think of it as a honeymoon. From the groom.” One I will desperately need after spending more than thirty seconds with my brother.
“We’ve established that my English is very good, but you’re not making sense.”
“It’ll make sense when we get there. Here, pack this.” I pick up a red satin dress.
“You want me to wear that to a wedding? It’s so formal.”
“I’ll be in a tux.”
Cat’s lips form anO,but words don’t come out. Her cheeks tint a shade that’ll accent the gown quite nicely.
“Yes, we’ll be fancy and proper and all that. Then we’ll get some dirt under our nails. Some time in nature. Trust me, it’ll be just what the doctor ordered.”
