Knock yourself out. Top drawer of the dresser.
When he’s done bitching at me and finally leaves the room, I look up to find Jameson still watching me, arms crossed, mouth twisted into a thoughtful expression.You know, she says slowly, taking a few steps forward. Advancing on me. Taps her chin with the tip of her forefinger. I thought I had to watch my back around you—you know, right when I started dating Sebastian and started coming around. I thought it was only a matter of time before you hid in the bushes to jump me.
She gives an airy little laugh, pushing the black glasses perched on her nose farther up the bridge, leaning back against the counter to mimic my stance when I wish she would just leave.Jump you? Why the hell would you think that? I’m not a fucking psycho.Her brows rise. Well yeah, I know that now—deep down inside, you’re just a big softie, aren’t you? All talk and no show.
Another lilty little laugh. Only you would tell someone to screw themselves when they were trying to be nice.Oh…my…god, she says breathily, drawing out the three words in a torturously slow preamble. I know. I know why you do it.
Her words are slow and deliberate. She braces a hand on the counter
I make a pfft sound, yanking the fridge open and peering inside so I don’t have to look at her face. She’s aggravating the shit out of me.Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.
He follows me into the house, removing his big brown boots at the door, setting them off to the side on the mat. His coat follows, draped on the back of the couch.Zeke Daniels standing in the middle of my living room, surveying the space, deliberating on where to sit—couch or recliner, couch or recliner.
He chooses the couch, dead center, legs spread.Finds the remote, clicks on the television.
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