Page 79 of Ice Wolf
I gathered the hint of exasperation in Saint’s voice.
“Oh, heavens no, Saint. Obviously, I’m no prude. I know since the two of you are engaged that you’ll want to slide between the sheets, perhaps enjoy a little nookie before you fall asleep. Your old room just won’t do.”
Ooohhh… I cracked my jaw on purpose, hoping the hint of discomfort would keep my mind from spinning in the gutter.
“That’s okay, Mom. This is your house and honey bunchkins and I will honor your rules. You know. No boys and girls sleeping in the same room.”
Did I hear more than a hint of desperation in Saint’s voice? Was he suddenly afraid of what I might do in the middle of the night? “He’s right,” I cooed. “I tend to sleepwalk at night searching for really large weapons.”
It was immediately apparent Charlotte wasn’t paying any attention to me.
“Sorry, honey. It was past time to dismantle the shrine,” Charlotte told him.
“What? You turned my old room into something else?” Saint spoke in horror.
“Honey, you are twenty-seven years old. It was past time. Don’t worry. Both your sister’s and brother’s rooms were repurposed as well. I saved all your trophies, although you’d need to ask your father where he stored them. Maybe in the basement. Anyway,” she continued, clapping her hands. “The point being the entire house is under some form of renovation. Your room was made over first.”
“Turning it into what?” Saint barked.
Giggling didn’t seem appropriate. He was upset.
“My library. I had so many books that your father decided to build me several bookcases. I think he did a fabulous job.”
“There must be a couch in the room. Right?” Saint pressed.
Charlotte nodded, giving me a sideways look as if we were just two friends commiserating over a man’s childish hold on his past.
“Yes, honey, there is. Along with my favorite reading chair. However, neither of you will be comfortable sharing the space together. Trust me. Your father and I have tried. Very… unsatisfying.”
There was no possible way of keeping the heat from crisscrossing my face. Charlotte was a hoot where my mom was prim and proper, which was why I knew with certainty my mother wouldn’t like the idea of a Bohemian wedding. What was I doing? Falling into the hype, the lie that we were getting married? Not a snowball’s chance in hell.
I was able to bite back a laugh until I realized I was clenching the jersey tightly against my chest. While the last thing I wanted to do was to sleep in anything that belonged to him, I certainly wasn’t going to sleep naked.
“Well, then I guess we’re staying here. Together.” In a few seconds, Saint had regrouped, eyeing me with wild eyes and increasing hunger. He’d soon learn what a cold shower felt like even if I’d need to find some wire ties and strap him to the showerhead. As much I appreciated the thought of enjoying a night of debauchery with a sinfully handsome ripped hockey player, it wasn’t going to happen with Saint.
Not again.
Ugh. I had a headache and its creation had nothing to do with thoughts of sex.
“Okay. There are extra towels in the adjoining bathroom. A blanket or two in the bottom drawer of the dresser, althoughI’m certain your body heat will keep you nice and toasty. There’s plenty of food in the fridge, ice cream in the freezer, and I know you learned a long time ago where your father kept his booze.” She turned toward me and I was positive she was going to hug me again based on the sheer joy stealing her entire expression. “We’re all the way down the hall so you don’t need to worry about making any noise. Unless of course the two of you are into hanging from light fixtures.”
My reflex reacted before my mind and I glanced at the ceiling.
Meanwhile, Saint was cracking up at my expense. There was no hateful glare descriptive enough to convey my thoughts. They certainly couldn’t be conveyed in public. He walked closer, a grin firmly planted on his chiseled face.
If he only knew the extent I wanted to go to in order to wipe it off.
“Good night, kids. Sleep well. We’ll talk more in the morning.” With that, Charlotte left the room, closing the door behind her.
For a few seconds I honestly had no clue what to say. There were no adequate words to sum up the evening, the stunning effects of our engagement or the fact we were supposed to spend a night together in the same room.
“When are you going to tell your mother the truth?”
“And break her heart? Not a chance.” He kept a grin on his face. “So about our living conditions.” He was taunting me in return as a reminder I was a part of the scheme whether I liked it or not. “I wouldn’t mind cozying up at your apartment.”
“Not a chance.”
He snapped his fingers. “Then my place it is. We’ll get you all settled in tomorrow, honey bunchkins.”
