“For God’s sake.” Since both sets of eyes are on the ceiling anyway, I scoot out from between Cato’s broad back and the over-stocked fridge, and, maneuvering my towel strategically, I cover my most important bits and dash into the hall. “I’m going for a shower. When I get back,no onewill be inside my apartment.”
“Write this shit down!” Cato booms. “You document how I didn’t look. How I covered her, but I didn’t touch.”
“Mr. Mal?—”
“Write it down!”
An entire hour after entering the hallway, I step out again with freshly washed hair, shaved legs, thoroughly flossed teeth, and, though I tried my best, lungs free of shower water.
I wassohopeful I would drown and put this mess behind me.
Instead, I’m forced to re-enter civilization, moving into my kitchen in a black, knee-length skirt, a sleeveless blouse, and with my hair tied up to keep it off the back of my neck. I head straight toward the fridge, but I don’t miss Cato’s presence by the TV.
Like he vowed to stand as far from me as humanly possible.
And Harrison’s stance by the door. As in, straddling the threshold, one foot in my apartment, one foot outside.
“We’re going to pretend today is starting just now.” I tear the fridge door open, the clatter and clang of bottles vibrating on the shelves. And because I’m more awake now, I scowl at the overflowing produce. The yogurt pouches. The protein shakes.
And most notably: the chill.
“This fridge didn’t work yesterday.” I snatch a protein drink with my right hand and creamer with my left. Heading back to the coffee machine, I set both down andactuallyfill the mug I didn’t fill earlier. “I know it didn’t work, because everything inside was warm. Now the light works again, the shelves are cold, and, unlike yesterday, there’s actual stuff in there.”
Was it Archer?
“I sent Harrison out last night,” Cato grunts. “He fixed this mess, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of basic human needs… like buying food.”
I shoot a suspicious look Harrison’s way, but he drops his gaze and studies his feet.
Not Archer, then.
“So you also swiped that credit card I told you not to swipe, Mr. Harrison, and procured my medication though I said not to?”
“That’s about the gist of it,” Cato answers instead. “Also, I only looked at your panties once. It was instinct. I wasn’t peeking or anything.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” I peel the carton of creamer open and tip a little into my coffee. “My day is just starting right now, remember?” I turn back to the fridge and toss the carton back in.
Should I offer the guys a coffee?
Absolutely not. They can get their own.
Spinning one last time, I plaster my backside against the lip of the counter and crack the protein drink open. Because I’m a mature, functional adult human being, even when Archer Malone is not present to force sustenance down my throat.
“Why are you here?”
Cato stabs his thumb back at his chest.Who,me?
I nod.
“I got used to sleeping on the couch. New house is fun and all, but we’ve been there for less than a week, and it’s been about that long since I’ve had a decent sleep.” He drops his hand, digging it into his jeans pocket. “I moved to the housebecause everyone else did, but I didn’t actually wanna leave my couch. If you get to come back, then so do I.”
“Mm. Right.” I swing my gaze toward the door. “I don’t recall walking home last night, Mr. Harrison. I sincerely hope you did nothing stupid or horrifying… like carry me.”
“No, ma’am.” He chokes down a nervous gulp, his throat bobbing with the action. “I drove you, though. I did not carry you.”
“Good.” I bring my focus back to Cato. “I don’t wanna talk about all the—” I gesture…away. “I don’t want to talk about any of it.”
“Good. I don’t wanna hear about it.”
