Page 59 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
The bad feelings between them departed for a moment, and they smiled almost fondly at each other.
Her smile vanished. “You didn’t even ask me what happened.”
“I know you sold those photographs because you need the credits.” He fought the urge to sneeze with disgust, barely.
“See! Right there. You see a conclusion and you jump right to it!” Her hands balled into fists, which seemed to vibrate along her sides.
“There is no other conclusion.”
“What about the twenty hours the ship was docked for maintenance, huh?” Her hands flew up, fluttering like she tried to bat away negativity.
He rubbed his jaw, suddenly tired. She wore him down with her nonsense talk about auras and walking the path the universe gave her. “That is possible.”
“That is fact.”
“I apologize,” he said.
Her eyes went wide in surprise. “Just like that?”
“You are correct. I saw the photos and leaped to a conclusion. I should have discussed the issue with you before accusing you.”
“And firing me, don’t forget.”
“Yes.” He wanted to explain how people in his employ had betrayed his trust time and time again. He had not considered the mechanics who had access to the ship.
Marigold seemed to follow his thoughts. “I suppose this has happened before, huh?”
“Quite often, actually. The pilot before you leaked information about Zero. I do not care what the media says about me. Let them waste time and effort chasing my tail, but not Zero. He is a kit. It is unfair to put such pressure on him.”
She breathed out slowly, counting to ten in her head. “Fine. Apology accepted. Don’t do it again or I’m ditching your behind at the nearest port.”
“Agreed.” He nodded, pleased. “Zero, open the door.”
“You didn’t do it correctly,” the kit’s muffled voice came through the door.
“We made up,” Marigold said.
“No. Keep trying.”
Marigold groaned. “What is this? I don’t even know,” she muttered. “Yesterday, he came into the cockpit talking about how he was upset at the people in a book he was reading. They had an argument. He wanted them to kiss and make up.”
“What book is this?”
“It’s not a book. He was talking about us.” Her tone implied that he was slow-witted for not seeing the obvious deception.
His ears twitched, half amused and half annoyed. “Us? Kiss?”
“Oh my stars, it’s so hard talking to you about this—and can you put on a shirt?”
He stepped closer. “No. I want to discuss this kiss.”
Her hands planted on his chest.
“Winter,” she breathed.
“Marigold,” he answered. He needed her to touch him, anywhere, everywhere, and touch her in return.
“Oh, screw it.” She stretched up, placing her hand on the back of his head, and pulled him down to her.
