“Right.” Fox turned andheaded in the direction I’d gestured, looking around the place with obviousinterest.
Did he approve? I knew thiswasn’tthe world’s nicest apartment, but I’d always appreciated that it was on theground floor, and I tried to keep it livable.
Why did Icare?
Probably because I felt likehe’djust ridden in on a white horse and slain a dragon in front of me, and now Iwas wondering what his castle would be like when he took me back to it. Anddragged me to bed.
Definitely not a line ofthought I should have been following.
I also shouldn’t have beenchecking out his bounce-a-penny-off-it ass as he headed deeper into the house.Today was a day filled with things I shouldn’t have been doing.
I trailed after him for lackof other options.
“Kettle?” Fox asked as Ifollowed him into the kitchen, heading straight for the cooktop. I took up oneof the stools tucked under the counter opposite, sitting heavily as my kneesthreatened to give out.
“Cupboard above and behindyou. It probably needs a rinse, sorry.”
“We’ve had this talk aboutapologizing,” Fox said, grabbing my bright red kettle from the top shelfwithout even having to stretch. He flipped the lid open, peered into it, andthen wrinkled his nose.
“How long am I here for?” heasked.
“A week, maybe? I’m notsure,” I said, uncertain how long the record company intended to keep himaround. Until the album was finished, maybe?
“Hmm.” He turned the kettlethis way and that, inspecting it under the light. “Well, we’ll see. Might pickyou up a new one.”
Coming from anyone else,that would have hurt. Coming from Fox, it sounded like he was genuinely tryingto be helpful.
“Will you leave if I tellyou I usually just microwave some water?”
Fox looked up, meeting mygaze. “Verypossibly,” he said, laughter dancing in his incredible eyes.
More of a seafoam under thebright kitchen lights. I finally understood what people meant when they saidthey could drown in someone’s eyes.
“Well… let’s pretend I wasjoking.”
Fox chuckled as he rinsedout the kettle. “I suppose youdokeep some tea around here somewhere?”
“Uh. I have chamomile andpeppermint,” I said. “Someone gave me a tin of black tea leaves for Christmas,but I don’t really drink it. It’s behind the others.”
“Right.” Fox said, openingmy tea caddy and plucking out a bag of the chamomile. “Chamomile for you, and…”he paused, grabbing the snowflake-covered tin, opening it, and then holding itup to his nose to sniff the contents.
The look on his face told meeverything I needed to know about what he thought of it.
“Well, you only live once,”he said, plucking out the plastic package of tea leaves. “Might as well do iton the edge.”
I laughed, all my worriesforgotten for a moment. Here was a man who’d just stood up to my unclewithout a second thought—something I’d never even considered doing—and he wasworried about a couple of dried leaves.
“Very serious business, tea,”Fox said, though he was smiling as he filled the kettle and took a moment tofigure out the induction plate.
“I can see that,” I said,the last of the knots in my stomach unraveling. “Thank you for, umm…”
“Kicking your uncle out?”Fox asked, looking over at me again. “Thought I might’ve been making a mistakewhen I heard that, but when you didn’t object…”
“I was grateful,” Iadmitted. “I shouldn’t say that, he’s done a lot for me.”
“None of which gives him theright to talk to you like that,” Fox said. “I see why you’re always apologizingnow.”
I wasn’t sure what hemeant by that, so I went with a non-committal shrug in response.
