Page 49 of Saving Ren

“Something about an angel, and a suntannedie sex God, other than that, nothing I could make sense of.”

I closemy eyes for a long moment as I inwardly groan. I’d like to bury my head under the doona and hide my face from him, but he’s virtually naked under there, and the sight could possibly induce a hot flush, which is something I definitely don’t need right now.

“What’s a suntannedie sex God?” he asks. I can hear the smile in his voice but refuse to look up and witness it.

“No idea, Thor, maybe? After he’s been on holiday and comes back all brown?”

“Right,” he says quietly.

Slowly and carefully, I sit myself up and push my back against the headboard next to him.

“What were you dreaming about?” his voice still quiet and low.

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t even remember falling asleep. I remember sitting on your sofa thinking that you were taking a long time down at your car. . .”

“I was talking to Jo on the phone. She said your husband turned up, had a bit of a rant about everyone knowing where you are and keeping it from him, and then he left.”

I turn my head enough to watch him puff out his cheeks and exhale a long, slow breath, but still don’t meet his eyes. I expect him to say something, instead he scratches at his stubbly jaw.

“What?”I question.

“Don’t go back to Jo’s.”

“What?” I screw my nose up in confusion.

“Jo’s going to come around here this morning sometime, I think she’s expecting you to go back to hers with her, don’t go.”

Muted sunlight shines through the sheers at the windows, illuminating the room enough for me to be able to vaguely make out our reflections in the screen of the television mounted on the wall opposite the bed.

I’m grateful not to be able to see my image in any kind of detail. I can only imagine the mess I must look, especially compared to Mr Wild in all his perfection.

I’m still wearing the trackies and hoodie Gabe gave me last night, and after what he just said, I am way, way, too warm.

These thoughts run parallel through my head, right alongside his words. My brain is trying to process all of this while attempting to formulate an answer.

“Why?” Is all I come up with.

I watch his eyes dart all over my face and wait for his response.

“Can I be frank?”

I shrug. “You can be whoever you want. I can call you Princes or Philomena if it’ll make you happy?” I suggest.

He rolls his eyes, I grin. Who knew I could be this hilarious first thing in the morning?

“That’s, that was terrible. Like the female equivalent of a dad joke.”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, it really was, but anyway, what I mean is, can I be blunt?”

“Go for it,” I tell him with a definite nod.

“Jo has no gates at the front of her place, I do. Your husband is likely to go back there until he finds out where you are. What if you’re there on your own?”

I open my mouth to tell him I’ll hide, that I won’t open the door, but he continues.

“Right now, he doesn’t know about me, so there’s absolutely no reason for him to come here. . . and if he does. . .”