Page 18 of You're So Vine
She screws up her face. “Embarrassed. Also a little freaked out.”
I get a buzz that she’s comfortable enough to be honest with me. I try to prevent the buzz from moving south. Responsible Cam needs to be in charge.
“Doc Wilson’s coming around in a couple of hours,” I say. “I told everyone else to stay away. Hope that’s okay?”
“More than,” she says, and adds, “thanks.”
Her coffee cup is empty. Technically, it’s lunch time, but I’m suddenly self-conscious. Would she want any of the food I could fix her? Haven’t cooked for another person in … can’t recall.
“Uh, if you’re hungry, I could make you a sandwich? Or some eggs?”
Ava’s blue eyes light up. “What kind of eggs?”
“What do you like?”
“My mom makes a mean huevos rancheros with black beans and avocado, with a fresh tomato salsa and hot sauce.”
We lock eyes for a beat. Ithink she’s messing with me but can’t be sure.
“Scrambled on whole wheat?” I suggest.
She grins. Totally messing with me.
“Coming right up,” I say.
“Do you have a shower?” she asks. “Or do you tip a bucket over yourself?”
“Out back.” I point to the door at the rear of the kitchen. “Clean towels are in the closet.”
Keeping the blanket wrapped around her, she gets up. At the door, she pauses.
“Don’t suppose you own a bathrobe? I mean, this old T-shirt of yours is effectively a dress on me, but my legs and arms are a little chilly. And I can’t wear this blanket all day.”
Dilemma. No bathrobe. And nothing I do own will fit her. Shelby lives nearest but it’s the day after her wedding. She and Nate will be … busy.
“Could ring your sister, Izzy?”
“Hell, no,” says Ava. “I mean, I love her, but open the door a crack to one Durant and the whole lot will be in here before you can say ‘mass invasion’.”
“Long socks and a sweater?” I suggest.
“Or…” she says, slowly, staring right at me, “I could go back to bed?”
Holy shit. Carton of eggs in my hand almost hits the floor. Not a hundred percent sure she’s implying that I join her, but—
She drops the blanket. Stands there, wearing my old T-shirt that comes down to mid-thigh. And, judging by the lack of visible underwear lines, nothing else.
Okay. A hundred percent sure.
And unable to move or speak.
I’m sonot used to things moving this fast, my whole system is locked into freeze mode. But if I don’t react, she’ll be hurt. Again.
“Uh…” My hand’s going to crush these eggs, so I put the box on the counter.
Ava’s watching me. She doesn’t look pissed. Yet.
“Is that a ‘startled-but-hell-yeah’ uh?” she says. “Or a ‘no-idea-how-the-hell-to-respond’ uh?”
