Page 79 of What's the time, Mr. Wolfe
“Why do you think you’ll lose it?”
I kept my face in his chest, not looking at him.
“You’ll tire of me one day,” I said, adding a chuckle to lighten the moment. “I’m not experienced enough for you.”
He didn’t answer immediately. Eventually, I looked up at him. His eyebrows were raised.
“Excuse me for my moment of fucking stunned silence there. What utter bullshit. I have a whole stream of swear words I could use right now, but I’ll just say this... Strike two!”
“Wait. What? Where was strike one? You can’t jump a step.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want. Now, rest and don’t talk shit again. I’m going to make us dinner, I’ll call when it’s ready.”
“Do you clean as well?”
“And iron and make the bed. And pick up your fucking clothes you leave lying around.” He gave me a wink as he slid from the bed. “Which are washed and dried and over there,” he said, pointing.
I giggled as I wrapped myself tighter in the duvet.
“You’re a right domestic queen, aren’t you?” I said to his retreating back.
“Strike two and a half.”
Sebastian called me a half hour later. I dressed in the T-shirt and sweatpants and padded barefoot down to the kitchen. I walked over to him, he was facing away from me and plating up a meal. I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my cheek on his back.
“What are we having?” I asked.
“Steak, again. I guessed you needed some iron, and I need some meat.”
“Do you want me to help?”
“No, just sit. Or maybe grab a bottle of wine? In the pantry.”
I headed to the pantry and through another door to a wine cellar. I had no idea what wine he had, but I studied the labels. There was a bottle that was half empty so grabbed one of those assuming he’d drunk the rest.
“I don’t know if this is any good,” I said, waving it around.
“It’s perfect. Now, sit”
He placed both plates on the breakfast bar and took the bottle from me. He opened it and poured it into a jug through a mesh funnel. “Let it breath for a little bit,” he said, placing it on the bar.
He sat beside me and smiled. “Let me guess, you’re starving?” he said, watching me ready tuck in.
“Always. I was born starving,” I replied.
We ate and we chatted. Some of what we talked about was the funeral arrangements and he confirmed again he would attend with me. We made a small mental list of ‘guests’ and I realised it didn’t amount to many.
“It doesn’t matter how many are there, Ruby. Only that those who are there, want to be.”
Again, I finished before him and placed my cutlery on my plate. He ate his steak extremely rare, and I’d been grateful mine was a little more cooked. He hadn’t asked me how I liked it, and whatever stage it was at, was lovely.
He placed a piece of steak in his mouth, and I watched as he sucked the blood from it before he chewed.
“You’re not a shifter, are you?” I asked, pouring us both a wine, assuming it was ready.
“A what?”
“A shifter, shape shifter. You know people that are also animals and switch between the two.”
