Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I glance back at him and his gaze meets mine, imploring.
“Of course.”
He smiles. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”
I swivel in my chair to face him. “Why not cats or dogs? Aren’t fish boring?”
“Fish are the yin to my yang. Calming, beautiful, quiet. When the whole world spins around me, I look at my fish,” Damon’s eyes twinkle at me, “and feel a deep sense of calm. Other times, watching makes me feel like a cat. I want to put my paw in the water and see what happens.”
He sure did have fun stirring things up. I poke his thigh, and he captures my hand.
My breath sharpens as he slides our fingers together. “Is there something you want to ask me?”
I’m tempted to use my free hand to whack him lightly over the head, but soften my touch at the last second, stroking his hair. “There is.”
A greedy gleam. “Say it.”
“Do you want to”—I lean in and whisper—“tell me if that blond brute’s dangerous?”
Damon pulls back, delighted. “Now look who’s playing games.”
I can’t help grinning. It’s a shivery kind of fun, teasing him. “Seriously, though. Are you in any kind of danger?”
His smile is soft and lazy and the epitome of cocky. “Worried about me, babe?” I try to untangle our fingers but he holds tighter. “I like it. But no one is in any danger. Rest assured.”
I stop pulling my hand. His gaze holds mine and behind a whole lot of glee, there’s sincerity. “That letter from the arsonist . . .”
“Forget you saw that.” Damon presses a thumb between my crunched brows. “No frowning. This is supposed to be a nice moment between us.”
I blink drily.
He skates his thumb over the bridge of my nose to the edge of my lips. “Want to know the highlight of my day?”
“Will you tell me anyway?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the highlight of your day?”
“That you’re still wearing your mum’s skirt.”
He ducks to peek up it and I palm his forehead, laughing as I pretend to shove him back. It’s to Damon’s exaggerated fall off my sewing table to his knees that Mum returns.
Her gaze oscillates between us, back and forth like she’s adding to the narrative she started last night. No-no-no-no. This isn’t like that. This is Damon being wretchedly determined to get into my pants, and me enjoying it far too much to make it stop. But it will stop, eventually.
She lifts a finger towards us. “Are you”—I shake my head ferociously—“wearing my skirt?”
I halt my head shaking and Damon grabs the waist of my skirt. “Should I take it off him?”
“Damon! That’s my mum.”
“Sorry, do you want your mum to take it off you?”
I throw my hands up. Damon is simply impossible. I find a pair of pyjama bottoms, shimmy them on, and drop the skirt.
Mum breaks our heated glare-giggling gaze with a jingle of her bangles. “What do we think about heading to the library roof?”
Damon sighed, “Somehow, I don’t think seeing stars is on tonight’s menu.”
He has that right!
“I’ve got some interior design to get started on.”
Mum chuckles. “At least let me treat you dinner first. I’m off early tomorrow.”
We drive to Foxton for food, and I’m surprised how easy we all get along. I mean, some parts of the conversation head in the direction of the disturbing, but on the whole it’s fun. Until we return to the bach and Mum holds me up in her—my—bedroom doorway.
“You know honey, it’s going to be okay.”
“What’s going to be okay?”
“You. Finding someone.”
Damon’s gaze catches mine as he passes us on the way to his bedroom. His smirk suggests he might hang around to eavesdrop. In fact, I’m sure of it.
“I’m working on finding someone who isn’t in it for my money.” I say to her and add loudly, “Or quick thrills.”
She pats my shoulder. “I have a feeling that someone might be right under your nose.”
I swear I hear Damon hum. I shake my head. “I’m sure it’s a bit further than that.”
“And if it doesn’t work out with him,” Mum continues, “there’s my place. The kitten season starts soon.”
She can’t seriously be saying Damon is my only shot. “There’s more people out there interested in me, Mum.” Like Roger. Scott. Even though I didn’t reciprocate their feelings, they liked me. If I get all domineering, or pretend I can cook . . . I wince. “I’m a catch.”
Through the wall, Damon calls, “Say it like you mean it.”
Mum’s eyebrows arch.
I rub my nape and laugh.
She pulls me in for a perfume-scented hug. “I love you, honey. I just want you to know I’m here.” She adds, “Did you want to keep my skirt?”
And that’s me done. “Lovely visit, Mum. Travel safely.”
Damon laughs, and I stay up way too late avoiding him.
Sometime after midnight, he comes out of his room and sweeps me into his arms like a treasured bride. “You need sleep.”