Chapter Seven
TRUDGING INTO the kitchen a half hour later, I was showered, dressed, and feeling embarrassed for how I acted with Cole in the bathroom.
While the blessed, raining heat of the shower had washed away the stink, I had realized that he had been right.
What he had asked wasn’t so bad. Or wrong.
He had every right to double-check, since a surprise variable had “broken”.
But, I still wasn’t saying anything about the pill.
I figured that was my business – plus, it really would only worry them – until it actually became a problem. If it did, I would tell them the truth.
So, feeling like crap, I was set to leave with everyone.
I had tucked away my rolling suitcase in one of Brent’s bedrooms, grabbing what I needed from it, and now I had only my duffle and purse to travel with.
Currently, all I had to do was find Cole and apologize…
and scout down some water and aspirin. That was a definite must. So, I had followed the drifting voices, which had led me to the kitchen.
Hell’s kitchen, to be exact, I decided as I wrestled through my purse for my sunglasses.
I knew the darn things were in here somewhere.
I just had to find them before my retinas were fried from the overhead lighting.
I rubbed my forehead in agitation. Did Brent really need to illuminate the entire city of New York from this very room?
He could power an entire small country with the amount of energy he was wasting in here.
The room was bustling with activity as they scraped dishes and put away their ingredients from their earlier breakfast. How could they manage to stay in here for that long? I knew tanning beds that were safer.
Zane strolled in a circle around me while I kept on digging. “You’re not going to wear that are you?” he questioned, humor splashing his tone. What was so darn funny?
“Why does everyone insist of asking me that?” I muttered heatedly, taking items out of my purse and setting them on a counter so I would have better odds tracking down my elusive sunglasses.
“Ah, honey. Even I have issues with this outfit,” Ally murmured softly.
“What are you people babbling about?” I asked in frustration, pausing from my important hunt to look up. I peered through the sunbeams of fake lighting and saw they were all checking me out. I rubbed my eyes, and really saw them.
Everyone was in here, except for Brent. They all wore black or dark grey suits that cost more than a number of cars I had owned in the past. Almost as if they had stepped off a runway. Including Ally, who had on a two-piece suit. The pencil skirt made her legs look great. I glanced down at my own.
Hmm.
“So you really do dress this way on purpose,” Cole spoke softly, as if to himself. Blue, secluded eyes scrutinized me unhurriedly from my shoes up. His gaze caught at my breasts. A slow blink, then they traveled to my face. “I had wondered about last night’s attire.”
He closed the dishwasher and pulled the tail of his red, silk tie out of his white dress shirt where he had stuck it for safe keeping while doing the dishes. He straightened it and buttoned his black suit jacket, adjusting the cuffs so they were perfectly aligned. He looked like a million bucks.
“I’m not dressed like y’all, but I don’t see what the problem is,” I told the entire room before dropping my head to review my outfit again.
Black t-shirt with pink writing on it that said BOOM!
across my chest with a bomb exploding in the middle and written under the picture was Be afraid, be very afraid, black army capris, oversized silver studded belt, black polka dotted pink knee high socks that matched the lettering on my shirt, and black converse.
Totally the norm. Nothing unusual here. My make-up was subdued today with only black mascara and pink lip gloss.
I had figured lining my eyes in black would have only enhanced the fact that they were bloodshot. “I like what I’m wearin’.”
Zane snorted.
“What?” I prodded, placing my hands on my hips.
“Other than the fact that our client’s meeting us at the airport in Orlando, I think the real issue is your shirt,” Stash replied. He acted like he was speaking to a two year old. My hackles rose.
“What about my shirt? It’s clean and doesn’t have any holes.
Besides, it’s my favorite.” I tugged on the hem of it.
For some reason I felt like I was missing something.
I was starting to feel self-conscious. A blush stained my cheeks.
“Not everyone has to look the same in the world.” That would be darn boring, if you asked me.
“Surely Boverington, Louisiana isn’t so small that it doesn’t have televisions and newspapers?” Stash asked very, very slowly.
I rubbed my forehead. I needed my sunglasses to deal with this. I started searching again and ignored him. He was just being rude now. I thought I would return the gesture.
Brent walked in at that moment and I glanced up at him.
And scowled. He was in the same getup as the rest – charcoal grey suit, white shirt, matching grey tie.
And, you couldn’t even tell he had been drunker than a skunk the night before.
He had always been that way. Give him thirty minutes and he appeared as perky as a blooming flower. It was downright annoying right now.
He walked over and kissed my cheek. I kept on glaring and blew my bangs out of my eyes in frustration. He didn’t pay it any attention, though, as he moved away. He grabbed two waters from the fridge and got aspirin from a cabinet.
Well, well. I perked up some.
“Boverington may be small, but they’re sure turnin’ over a new leaf.
They just got their first printing press and brand new color TV’s.
I think colored people even get to ride the buses now,” Brent spoke, laying his accent on real heavy-like.
He gave Stash an awe-shucks smile, right before flipping him off.
Sometimes you just gotta love the man. He knew how to stick up for the underdog with flare.
Brent tilted the aspirin bottle to my cupped hand, letting three drop into my palm.
He leaned in close while handing me a water and whispered in my ear, “Darlin’, you have a bomb exploding on your shirt and we’re fixing to get on a plane.
” He tilted his head back and raised his eyebrows before kissing my rapidly reddening cheek.
Oh. Now this was just embarrassing. I hadn’t even thought of that.
I immediately dropped my duffle on the floor and started rifling through it.
I found a black knitted, long sleeved sweater that reached to my ankles and had three tiny, silver skull buttons right at chest level.
I yanked it on and buttoned it up. It covered my shirt completely, flaring open at belt level. There. That was better.
I zipped up my duffle and stood, ignoring everyone.
I hoped they would soon forget my moment of complete stupidity.
No wonder Stash had acted that way. I would never be so ill-mannered, at least not on purpose, to show a shirt like this on a plane after 9/11.
That would just be plain poor taste. Not to mention, I would be bullied by airport security like a tick of a fat dog.
I kept busy, swallowing down the aspirin and finally finding my sunglasses.
I put them on and was dumping items back in my purse when Cole leaned back against the counter next to my hip.
He sat a toasted bagel with melted butter on it right in front of me.
The smell of it didn’t make my stomach roll and it actually looked pretty darn good.
I glanced up at him, but he was watching everyone else finish whatever chore they had.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
His head only inclined slightly in acknowledgement.
“Cole,” I started quietly, dumping my new prepaid cell phone I had bought at Wal-Mart in my purse. “I’m sorry for how I behaved earlier. I reacted like an idiot. I shouldn’t have gotten mad. You were right to question me again. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight.”
He did look at me then, just as I was fixing to bite into the gifted bagel.
I lowered it self-consciously when he watched the movement.
I have a “thing” about people seeing me eat.
I tended to be awfully messy. I had come to the conclusion that the only things breasts were good for were catching crumbs and blobs of ketchup or tomato sauce.
No matter what I did – and I wasn’t going to be caught dead wearing my napkin in my collar – I always ended up wearing what I ate.
Eyes still on my mouth, he lifted his hand. He slowly rubbed his thumb over my bottom lip, wiping away butter that had already dribbled there. I blushed. Yep, it never failed.
My blush didn’t get a chance to really flare, though. He placed his buttered thumb in his mouth, sucking it off. Leisurely. Slowly, he removed it from between his lush lips. Oh. Oh, my.
“Apology accepted,” he said softly, licking his bottom lip like he was savoring the taste of my previously worn food. “Next time, I’ll just have to remember your temper matches your hair.”
I stared. And really hoped my mouth wasn’t hanging open too far.
Brent strolled over, resting a hip against the counter on the other side of me. He stared daggers a Cole, but spoke calmly, “It’s time to go. We’re going to have to speed to get there as it is.” Ever so slowly he pried his stare away from Cole, eyes on me. “Didn’t you have another bag?”
I answered quickly, but calmly, shrugging. “I left it in one of your bedrooms. I don’t need it. It’s just got photos and books and such, in it. My clothes are in my duffle.” I patted said duffle.