“Well, there’s my answer,” he calls out, arrogant as hell.
I don’t bother with a towel. I don’t have time for that. But I pause at the door, back to him, water dripping down my body.
I pull the strings of my swim top, and it drops to the ground. Then I tug out the elastic holding my hair up, letting it fall down my back. I look over my shoulder and flash him a sweet smile, anI winsmile, before sliding open the door and walking away, my thong bikini bottom delivering the last word.
Just to fuck with him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
MATT
My finger scrollsalong the mouse.
“This says that a clean space is essential and reflects a healthy living environment.” I pause, still staring at the screen. “So just make sure you don’t throw your shit everywhere when we get to my place.”
“Ourplace,” Jordan says, her voice clipped.
I glance up. “What?”
“You saidyourplace. But today, it’sourplace,” she corrects. “Maybe don’t do that in front of the guardian ad litem.”
“Right,” I say. “Good point.”
She raises her brows, then turns her attention back to her computer. “I don’t even have anything with me besides my laptop and purse, anyway,” she mutters.
Our flight left at seven this morning and Jordan was scrambling to get out the door by six. She didn’t have time to make her tea, which mean she didn’t get her morning ritual. She’s grumpy. And, honestly, so am I. Just for different reasons.
I’m on edge. Tense. Between the hot tub display last night and preparing for this visit, I’m wound tight, stressed, and all I can do is study the hell out of this website and hope that counts for something.
I read a little further, then pause. “It says safety is really important.Mentions outlet covers.” I glance at her. “We don’t need those, right?”
She looks at me like I’m the dumbest person on Earth. “He’s twelve, not two. I think he knows not to stick his finger in the socket.”
“I fucking know that,” I snap, then rein it in. “It’s just listed here. I want all my bases covered.”
“Ourbases,” she corrects again.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Sorry.Ourbases,” I repeat, matching her irritation.
She snaps her laptop shut. “Is it going to be like this all day?”
I frown.
“Because if it is,” she adds, “that’s going to be the first red flag. If we can’t get along.”
“We’re fine,” I say quickly. “I just don’t want to screw this up.” I flash a dry grin. “See how I usedwethere?”
“Cute,” she says, lips tight. “What about discipline?”
“What about it?”
“If we’re asked how we discipline. What we do.”
I hesitate. That’s one I’m not sure about. I didn’t exactly grow up with a healthy example of it. “Talk first,” I say finally. “Always talk first.”
She gives a small smile. “Good answer.” Then, softer, “What about us? How do we handle disagreements?”
