“They can’t stop you now,” Chandler said, voice full of venom, and again with that barely thereaccent.
“There’s a clause in the prenup,” Griffinreplied.
Ellion sighed. “I’m going to bed. At least think about tellingher.”
As soon as I heard him move, I scrambled on tiptoes back to my room with the milk glass still in my hand. It took me quite a while to go back to sleep as I mulled over the new information I’d learned. What sort of people could demand he never remarry? I couldn’t figure it out. I’d have to pump Chandler and Ellion forinformation.
The next morning, I was still wearing the borrowed pajamas and wanted to clean my own clothes and get back into them. When I stepped into the hall carrying my meager handful of clothing, I almost walked straight into Chandler, who had his hand poised to knock on thedoor.
“Oh, hey,” I said. “I was about to come findyou.”
“What’s up, pretty lady?” he said with a silly eyebrowwaggle.
“Would you like to be my laundry date? I hear you know your way around a rinsecycle.”
He bowed low at the waist. For a moment, I was put in mind of the sort of bow you’d see in a movie about kings and queens. It was like he was bornbowing.
“You’re too good at that. But I’m no princess. That’s my sister-in-law,” Iquipped.
As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted uttering them. Once he knew I was connected to a publishing house, he’d ask for help, and I still hadn’t read his books to know if I wanted to promote them ornot.
Bless his heart, for all I knew, they were awful. “She’s a princess?” he asked skeptically, eyeswide.
“Not literally. She—uh—acts like one.” I stuttered over my words, hoping to avoid any more prying questions until I could get my hands on one of hismanuscripts.
He accepted that explanation, and we walked to the laundry room. Grabbing an empty basket, he indicated I should throw my clothes in it. The clothes Griffin had mentioned to me were stashed in a cabinet beside the washer. “If you put cabinets everywhere, you can hide your clutter,” he said. “Nobody would ever know Griffin left me a huge pile of laundry todo.”
“Yes, because it’d be a shame if a guest found a pile of laundry in yourlaundryroom.” I fought my giggles as I teased Chandler for his fastidiousnature.
“Tease all you want,” he said. “You’d thank me if we were married and your mother came to visit. She wouldn’t find anything to judge youabout.”
His words distracted me, and I zoned out while he chattered on about laundry soaps and overloading the machines. What would it be like to marryChandler?
It was hard to picture since I didn’t know what his real life was like. We were stuck in the snow, nothing but leisure time on our hands. What would he be like after a hard week at the office? Or when the car broke down, right after the hot water heater flooded the basement, right after the dishwasher nearly caught the house on fire? He’d probably be so obsessed with the maintenance that those sorts of things wouldn’t happen to his cars or appliances. I smiled at him while hetalked.
“…and then stains never set in,” he said with aflourish.
“You’re cute.” I winked athim.
He waited for me to turn away before catching my arm and yanking me toward him. I did that weird stick-my-chest-out thing that girls do whenever guys pull them in for a hug. It was involuntary, I swear. My front slammed into his, and he leaned me backward into a dip worthy of the dancefloor.
My heart pounded, and my cheeks flushed, and I was aware of every inch of our bodies that touched. Somanyinches were touching. He was lithe but he was strong. He held me in the dip, his face creeping towardmine.
When he was about to press his lips against my extremely willing own, he whispered, “I’m anything butcute.”
My mouth flew open as he lifted me upright and released me—without a kiss. “What was that?” I asked. “Where’s my damn kiss? Where’d you learn to dothat?”
He left me leaned against the washer to recuperate while he sorted clothes. “It’s a class they teach in primary school where I’m from,” hereplied.
Cocky flirt. “Where’d you go to primary school?” Iasked.
“You’ve probably never heard of it. A tiny town inTennessee.”
Cocky, lying flirt. “I’ve done a lot of traveling in Tennessee.Whereabouts?”
“A little town called Greenback. It’s barely a blip on the map.” He focused on folding his fitted sheet, a task I’d nevermastered.
“What’s Greenback near?” I asked. I wasn’t lying about traveling around Tennessee. Growing up, we’d gone to fairs, concerts, and other events within a four-hour radius ofAtlanta.
