Page 6 of Gideon
You’re disgusting.I barely bit back my sarcastic retort. Instead, I simply shrugged and tucked in to my food. It was delicious. A perfectly cooked egg and perfectly crisped bacon. My stomach grumbled loudly as I ate and I tried to hide my blush of embarrassment. It was no use. I was a natural redhead. We blushed whether or not we liked it.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said pridefully.
“Thank you for cooking,” I offered in return.
“So, I was thinking we should talk about a few things this morning,” he stated, his fork clanking loudly against his now empty plate as he leaned back and stretched in his seat.
“Where did you go last night?” I blurted out, interrupting him.
“Huh? Oh, I stayed on my boat,” he answered.
“Your boat? You have a boat?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
“You didn’t see it when we got here last night?” he asked, almost looking sad about it.
“No,” I shrugged. What was the big deal?
“Oh. Yeah, I have a boat. I’m going to go work on it today, actually,” he commented, pleased with himself.
“It’s here?” I asked, putting a few pieces together in my mind.
“Yeah, right out front.”
“So, why did you need your truck to get to it last night?” I questioned.
“Oh, um. I didn’t,” he stammered awkwardly. Interesting.
“So, where did you go last night?” I knew I shouldn’t be questioning him, but curiosity killed the cat.Meow.
“Out,” he answered, his face hardening as he stood and took his plate to the sink, dropping it in with a loud bang. “I’ll be on my boat if you need anything,” he bit out, walking towards the door.
“What am I supposed to do today?” I asked. It was our honeymoon, and he was just going to bounce? I should be happy he was gone, out of my hair, but this whole interaction felt off and strange.
“I don’t know,” he groaned, running a hand through his chestnut hair.
“Well, why don’t we spend the day together?” What was I doing? I didn’t want him here, so why was I pushing the issue?
“I’ll be on my boat,” he bit out, reiterating his statement.
“And I’m supposed to do what, exactly?” I repeated, my hands fisting at my sides.
“I don’t know. Do whatever it is women do all day,” he sighed.
“And what is that, exactly?” I scoffed.
“Clean, I guess?” he posed the question, and I just looked at him with shock. The sheer audacity of this man.
“You want me to clean this place?”
“Yeah, isn’t that what women like to do? Cook and clean?” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“Well, you wouldn’t let me cook this morning,” I scoffed, mirroring his stance, my own arms crossed over my chest. His eyes drifted lower to the hint of cleavage that peeked out from the neckline of my simple dress. I immediately dropped my hands. I didn’t need him looking at me like that, like I was something he could consume. Trying not to blush, I ignored the way his gaze made me tingle.
“I didn’t let you cook this morning because I wastryingto be nice,” he said flippantly.
“Well, maybe I was trying to be nice by cooking foryou!” I needed to control my temper, but something about that look on his face made me want to fight.
“Then how about you beniceand clean up in here while I work on my boat,” he threw right back.
