“Yes, I like it.”
“You’re in a bit of a pickle, considering you just like it.” My lip drags through my teeth as I completely lose the battle to keep back my smirk.
“I’m not in a pickle,” he argues on a small laugh. “It’s no big deal.”
“Okay.” I shrug, still grinning. It is such a big deal.
He walks across the kitchen and around the island toward me, his eyes widening as my lower body comes into view. “What the hell are they?” he blurts.
I look down at myself and back up to shocked green eyes. “Shorts.”
“You mean knickers?”
I’m grinning again. “No, I mean shorts.” I grab the hem on each leg of my denim shorts and pull them up. “If they were knickers, they’d look like this.”
He gasps a little, still studying the offending garment. “Ava, come on, be reasonable.”
“Jesse,” I say and sigh. “I’ve told you. If you want long skirts and roll-neck jumpers, then go find someone your own age.” I pull my shorts back down and kneel to tie the laces of my Converse, ignoring the grumbling and bristling emanating from every delicious fiber of my unreasonable man. “I might go for a swim at The Manor.” I look up at him, finding his grumpy face is back to horror.
“In a bikini?”
I laugh. “No, in a snowsuit. Of course in a bikini.” I’m really pushing my luck here, and I know it.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
“I’d like to go for a swim.”
“I’d like to strangle you,” he snaps. “Why do you do this to me?”
“Because you’re an unreasonable arse and you need to loosen up. You may be an old man, but I’m only twenty-six. Stop acting like a caveman. What’ll happen if we go on a beach holiday?”
“I thought we could go skiing.” He’s the one smirking now. “I’ll show you how good I am at very extreme sports.”
I grin and jump up to his body, my nose diving straight into his neck. “You smell luscious.” I inhale his yummy scent as he carries me out to the car, still wearing the short shorts.
We pull up at The Manor, and I’m quickly collected from my side of the car before being pulled up the steps and into the entrance hall. I hear the distant hum of chatting from the bar and smile when I see John approaching, looking ever the frightening mountain of a man.
“Ava would like to go swimming,” Jesse grumbles as John joins us.
The big guy looks down at me, his eyebrows peeking above his wraparounds. “You do, girl?”
I nod. “It’s hot out there.”
The small smile flashing across John’s face is an indication that he knows damn well what I’m doing. Yes, I’m trying to bash all unreasonableness out of my husband.
We pass the bar, and I spot Sam. I can’t see his face, but his body slumped on a stool is a clear indication of how he’s feeling. My best friend is an idiot. She’s running away from something good, just to reignite something that’s terribly bad.
As soon as we enter Jesse’s office, he drops my hand and goes straight to the integrated fridge. He pulls out a jar of peanut butter, immediately unscrews the lid, and plunges his finger in. John doesn’t bat an eyelid, instead taking a seat on the other side of Jesse’s desk while I look on with a smile. Jesse walks casually over to his chair and takes his seat, slipping his finger into his mouth and sighing. “What’s happening?” he asks John around his finger.
“Camera three is out. The surveillance company is scheduled to come sort it out.” John shifts in his seat and pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’ll chase them up.” He dials and puts his phone to his ear before standing and walking over to the window.
“Baby, you okay?”
I flick my eyes from John’s back to Jesse, finding a concerned look on his face. “Yes, fine.” I start toward his desk and sit myself down in the chair next to John’s. “Daydreaming. Sorry.”
His finger slips into his mouth again. “What about?”
I smile. “Nothing. Just watching you settle now that you have your peanut butter.”
He looks down at the jar and rolls his eyes. “Want some?”
“No.” My nose wrinkles in distaste, and he laughs, his eyes twinkling, his soft lines springing from his greens as he screws the lid on and slides the jar onto his desk. “How’s Sam?” I ask.
“Shit. He won’t talk about it. How’s Kate?”
“Not good.”
“What do you know? Why did she end it?”
I shrug as casually as possible. “Who knows.” I dare not even mention my brother. “It’s probably for the best.”