“Why do you need to come back?” My question sounds a little dark.
“Water my plants. Take utility meter readings and stuff.”
“You don’t have plants.”
“I have fake ones.” She shrugs. “They need dusting. This is my place. You’re not going to make me stay away from it. Our deal was I’d live with you, not be your shadow.”
“Live. Fuck. Sleep in my bed.”
“One of those things is not like the others,” she huffs. “The rest only accounts for part of my days. Remember, it’s my body you want. Not my attention.”
It was the heart I’d denied. I refrain from correcting her now.
“Be back in a flash,” she chirrups, finding the door handle with ease this time.
“Well, I’m coming, too.”
“Fine,” she mutters, climbing from the car. At the garden gate, she adds, “I feel like we’ve had this discussion before about me not climbing out of windows.”
“I didn’t think you’d do it then. I know you won’t now.”
“So toddle off back to the car.” She makes a lazy shooing motion with her hand. So I grab it.
“The least I can do is carry your bag.”
“Whatever.” She shoots me a fake-looking smile. Or it might’ve been a grimace, given she knows exactly why I’m traipsing up the stairs after her.
“You’re here! Oh, thank God!” No sooner than the door is open, Lavender is engulfed by arms and a heavy waft of Paco Rabanne. “I called you a million times. Why haven’t you answered?”
“’Cause I didn’t want to.”
She begins to unfold herself from his embrace when I reach over her shoulder and yank at his shirt collar.
“Take a fucking hint, dipshit.”
“What—whoa!” He stumbles but catches himself against the wall, his eyes flying wide as he notices me for the first time. “You brought him here?” His attention darts incredulously between us.
No way she loves this prick.
“Watch your fucking mouth.” I take a step around Lavender, aborting it at the press of her hand to my chest.
“Stop,” she says quietly before turning to the arsehole. “Yes, I broughthimhere.”
“I have a fucking name.”
“That some of us are unlikely to forget,” she murmurs as she turns to close the door. “But let’s not air our dirty laundry to the neighbors.”
“Nothing dirty to see here,” I respond, getting out of her way. As she turns back to the hallway, I plant my hands on her hips, forcing her to look at me. “Not yet, at least.”
Lavender rolls her eyes but can’t hold back her smile, though she tries. None of which the asshole sees.
“That… man kept me in that house for twenty-four hours!” the little bitch bitches, his voice rising by octaves.
Swinging around to face him, I press my forefinger to my chest. “Who, me?” I growl, daring him to try me.
“Your thugs,” he amends, stepping backward. “I know they work for you.”
“You know that for a fact, do you?” I take another step in his direction, and he takes another back. “Did you see their employment contracts?”
