Heroes Are My Weakness(50)
“He hasn’t forgotten anything,” Annie retorted. Trust Theo to find a new way to torture her.
Jaycie gazed at Annie over the purple hippopotamus tied to the top of her crutch. “It’s my job. You shouldn’t have to do this kind of thing.”
“If I don’t, I’ll deprive Theo of his entertainment.”
Jaycie collapsed against the bookcases, sending a leather-bound volume tumbling to its side. “I don’t understand why the two of you don’t get along. I mean . . . I remember what happened, but that was a long time ago. He was just a kid. And I never heard about him getting into trouble again.”
Because Elliott would have hushed it up, Annie thought. “Time doesn’t change a person’s basic character.”
Jaycie regarded her earnestly, the most naive woman on earth. “There’s nothing wrong with his character. If there was, he’d have fired me.”
Annie bit back a pointed retort. She wouldn’t inflict her own cynicism on the only real friend she had here. And maybe she was the one with the character flaw. After everything Jaycie had been through in her marriage, it was admirable that she could still maintain her optimism about men.
WHEN ANNIE ENTERED THE COTTAGE that night covered with soot, she was greeted with the sight of Leo straddling the back of her couch like a cowboy riding a horse. Dilly sat in a chair, the empty wine bottle from two nights ago in her lap. Crumpet was sprawled on the floor in front of an open copy of the pornographic art photo book, while Peter had crept up behind her to look under her skirt.
Theo came out of the kitchen, a dish towel in his hands. She looked from the puppets to him. He shrugged. “They were bored.”
“You were bored. You didn’t want to write, and this was your way of procrastinating. Didn’t I tell you to leave my puppets alone?”
“Did you? I don’t remember.”
“I could argue with you about that, but I have to take a bath. For some reason, I seem to be covered in fireplace ash.”
He smiled. An honest-to-God smile that didn’t quite fit on his brooding face. She stalked toward the bedroom. “You’d better be gone when I come out.”
“Are you sure you want me to leave?” she heard him say. “I picked up a couple of lobsters in town today.”
Damn it! She was ravenous, but that didn’t mean she was going to sell herself out for food. Not for ordinary food, anyway. But lobster . . . ? She slammed her bedroom door, which made her feel like a twit.
I don’t see why you’d feel that way, Crumpet said petulantly. I slam doors all the time.
Annie stripped off her dirty jeans. Exactly my point.
She took a bath, washed the soot out of her hair, and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and one of Mariah’s black turtleneck sweaters. She tried to tame her wet hair by putting it up in a ponytail, knowing as she did that her curls would soon pop out like demented mattress springs. She eyed her meager supply of makeup but refused to apply even lip gloss.
The kitchen smelled like a four-star restaurant, and Theo was peering into the cabinet over the sink. “What happened to the wine that was here?”
She pushed up the sleeves of her sweater. “It’s boxed up and waiting for my next trip to the post office.” The value of the whole batch was around four hundred dollars, not a legacy, but still welcome. “I’m selling it. Turns out, I’m too poor to drink hundreds of dollars’ worth of wine myself. Or offer it to an unwanted houseguest.”
“I’ll buy a bottle from you. Better yet, I’ll trade it for the food you stole from me.”
“I didn’t steal anything. I told you. I’ll replace it all when the supply boat comes in next week.” She made a hasty amendment. “Except for what you ate.”
“I don’t want it replaced. I want your wine.”
Scamp butted in. Give him your body instead.
Damn it, Scamp. Shut up. Annie gazed toward the pots on the stove. “Even the least expensive bottle is worth more than the food I borrowed.”
“You’re forgetting tonight’s lobster.”
“On Peregrine, hamburger is more expensive than lobster. But nice try.”
“Fine. I’ll buy a bottle from you.”
“Great. Let me get my price list.”
He muttered something under his breath as she made her way to the bedroom.
“How much do you want to pay?” she called out.
“Surprise me,” he said from the kitchen. “And you can’t have any. I’m drinking the whole thing myself.”
She pulled the box from the rear of the closet. “Then I’ll have to add a corking fee. It’ll be cheaper to share.”