Page 58 of Pretty Mess

I consider that and then nod. “I do like you being in charge. Do you think that’s a kink?”

“Does it matter?”

I stare at him as he pillows his head on his arms and stares out the window. From this angle, I can see the tops of the green trees in the park and the grey sky. I edge a little closer, observing him covertly. Is he staying? He’s usually out of the door before the spunk has dried on me, so this is a novelty.

He doesn’t notice my observation, and that’s completely out of character too. He continues to stare out of the window at nothing, and he has a moody look on his face.

“You okay?” I ask, snuggling into the sheets on my side, continuing to observe him.

“What?” He gives me a startled glance.

My interest deepens. “You. Look. Troubled,” I say, spacing out the words.

“Thank you so much for enlightening me, Wes. You’re invaluable. How do I live without you narrating my feelings? Next, you’ll pop up at breakfast while I’m eating to tell me I’m hungry.”

“Gosh, that’s anawfullot of words.”

He glares at me, which amuses me for some reason. I’m sure many people are wary of Mac, but I’m not one of them. His attitude is usually so king-of-the-world that it’s probably good for him to receive some pushback occasionally.

He hesitates and then says reluctantly, “I do have a problem that I can’t work out.”

I come up on one elbow in enthusiasm. “Ooh, tell me. I might be able to help you. Would you like financial or personal advice?”

“Good god.Neither,” he says in a revolted tone that shouldn’t amuse me as much as it does.

“Your lookout,” I say peaceably. “I’m very good at giving advice.”

“I’d sooner ask an aardvark.”

“Aren’t they extinct?”

“Exactly.”

I snort, and his eyes twinkle. Then his head cocks and a funny look crosses his face. “Actually, maybe you could help me.”

“Really? I was half joking, but I have to tell you that I’m excited by this.” I sit up. “How?”

“I can tell you in the car. Get up, shower, and get dressed.”

“Shall we shower together? It conserves water.”

“It also consumes time,” he says, to my disappointment. “I’ll use the shower in the spare bedroom.”

Half an hour later, I wander out of the bedroom. Mac is standing in the kitchen drinking a glass of water. His hair is wet and slicked back showing the beauty of his bone structure.

“Am I dressed okay?” I ask, coming to a stop in front of him.

He sets the glass on the counter looking at my outfit of jeans and a red jumper in confusion. “You look fine.”

I cock my head. “I usually do, but should I be wearing a tutu or something?”

He blinks. “Why?”

“Well, you haven’t given me a single clue about where we’re going. It could be ballet for all I know.”

“I don’t think the ballet world is ready for your particular level of grace.”

“Hey, I’mverygraceful.”