Page 37 of Ren: Warlord Brides
“Yes. She is adorable,” Ren said with a nod, like Emry agreed.
“And that was a rat.” Rats. Emry shuddered. She didn’t want to be a snob, but having vermin on board was unacceptable.
“Unintelligent rodents sneak on board when we dock at the station. Murder Mittens will take care of it.”
As if on cue, a bloodthirsty yowl echoed down the ship’s corridors.
Problem solved, apparently.
Ren gave a tour, chatting about rebuilding the ship and the system upgrades he installed. The ship had a basic layout: cargo and engineering at the bottom, living quarters in the middle, with the command center at the very top. It was a square structure that maximized space. Wear and tear had taken a toll on the interior, but it was in better shape than she expected.
The common area in the middle of the ship had an open layout with a galley-style kitchen to one side, a large farmhouse-style table, and a semicircular built-in sofa with deep cushions. It was comfortable. Inviting, even. Who cared that the paint had been worn away in places? She needed to get over herself and stop being a snob.
“This is your cabin,” he said, tugging on a handle to slide open a door.
The cabin was a single built-in bunk and a matching sideboard along the opposite side. Basic but clean. No rats or bugs scurried away when the lights flickered on. Stale air suggested that Ren didn’t host many overnight guests, which made this weird jealous part of her brain happy knowing that Ren didn’t have sleepovers.
“Cozy,” she said, tossing her pack on the bed. Her cabin on Pashaal’s ship was twice the size.
Okay, she was being a snob, and that needed to stop. She had a long day, which always made her cranky, and she hadn’t eaten much. Hangry was a genuine thing. She felt greasy and sweaty from working in the kitchen all evening.
Emry tossed Ren’s jacket onto a chair, then removed her chef’s coat with a shake. Sand fell to the floor.
Yup, definitely needed a shower.
“Is all that blood yours?” she asked. “We should probably get that cleaned up.”
He touched his face, as if he had been unaware of his split lip or the dried blood from his nose. “My wounds have healed already.”
“Still covered in blood. It’s not as attractive as you think.”
Lies.
Emry had spent the last twenty minutes cradled against that chest, listening to his heart, feeling his arms flex and his shoulders move with each step. Sand. Sweat. Blood. All hot.
They really needed to get into a shower and scrub each other clean.
And now she was thinking about soap, suds, and other slippery naked activities.
He tilted his head to one side, that white streak falling forward to obscure part of his face.
Why was that hot?
Emry did not understand what was happening to her. This was pretend. She just needed to convince him to help Gemma. Flirting was part of the plan, but her heart couldn’t get involved.
It’d hurt too much when he sent her away again.
Ugh. She had to change the direction of her thoughts.
“I could eat,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Could you eat? I want to get a better look at the kitchen.”
“The kitchen?”
“The food prep area? We walked by it.” Kitchens were her happy place. Eating her emotions wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but it’d been a hell of a day and something in her gut would help her settle.
Ren took her back to the common area. “The cooling unit and the filtration system are new.” Ren proudly ran a hand down a narrow counter.
“Thanks. I’ll take a gander. Get cleaned up and we can talk,” she said.
