“He wasflirtingwith you,” Soren says, sounding like the entire concept is inconceivable.
I snort. “I reckon he’s the type to flirt with anything with a pulse.”
“Probably,” Brogan agrees, yelping when I pinch his side.
I’m not sure why I’m so oversensitive today, but that has me feeling all prickly. Is it nuts that he might want to flirt with me? Man, these two fellas are doing a number on my self-esteem, plus I guess I’m still a little salty and sore from my verbal lashing courtesy of my sister yesterday.
“Okay, other than Andrew being a prize-winning creep, what else did you think?”
Brogan shrugs. “I dunno, babe. He admitted himself that they spent little time talking. Makes me wonder how well he knew Wren. I kind of got the impression he was hinting she’d killed herself because she was so upset with things ending between them.”
“You don’t think that’s likely?”
He chuckles. “He seems to think a lot of himself. Far more likely she’s pissed off to pastures new or something and not bothered to tell us until she’s settled or whatever.”
“You think she might have chosen this? Made the choice to disappear?” Soren says, like he hadn’t even considered it as a possibility.
“Well… she might have, right?” I say.
He scoffs. “Not everyone turns their back on their responsibilities, their duties.” His tone is biting and cold and I wonder what Madame said to him about me, whether he knows that I’m one of the shirkers that he clearly has such a big issue with.
I shrug and paste a docile smile on my face. Always my number one line of defense. “Can’t say it isn’t a possibility, though.”
Soren bristles and I’m half expecting him to snap clean in half from the level of tension he’s holding in his back. Such great posture. I bet Madame absolutely loved him when they met.
“You ever try ballet?” I ask.
“What?”
“I think you’d be good at it. Straight back, excellent control—”
He doesn’t respond, instead huffing loudly and striding off, even though it’s not like he can get far without me. I glance at Brogan, who is looking slightly bemused.
“I didn’t even get to mention how good he’d probably look in a tutu.”
That earns me Brogan’s wide grin and chuckle, and I’m glad that at least one person I’m stuck with for the next while doesn’t seem to hate me.
“Don’t mind him. He just takes this job seriously and he rarely knows how to show his feelings properly.”
“I’m going to take the job seriously too,” I assure him. I’m not here for shits and giggles. “I want to help find Wren, if she wants to be found. Although not all who wander are lost, I’d want someone to look for me if I disappeared off the face of the earth.”
“Did you just quote Tolkien?” Soren reappears in front of me like he’s a damn magician, making me jump and let out an involuntary squeak.
“I, uh, maybe. Maybe I saw it on a t-shirt.”
I hope he’s not one of those fan-boy buttheads that thinks that just because I’m a woman, or just because I’m blonde, I can’t enjoy a good book or movie. Maybe he thinks I’m too stupid or something. He sure doesn’t seem to think much of me.
Personally, I think it’s fear that makes those kinds of guys like that. They’re scared that if they don’t try to control who else likes the same thing they do, they might lose it entirely, like a kite careening off into the sky.
Unlike me, who hides behind my big hair and bigger smiles, hoping no one noticed the inadequacy beneath.
Man, that was pretty deep for a Tuesday or Wednesday, whatever the heck day it is.
We’re interrupted by the sound of a tinkling bell, coming from somewhere deep in the garden. It sounds a little like wind chimes and gentle whispers all rolled into one.
“What’s that? The party time bell or something?”
Brogan shoots me an amused look. “Party time bell?”
