Page 83 of Burn for You (Slow Burn 1)
“The master of the house enjoys installing unnecessary technology,” said Rayford, like I wasn’t two feet behind him. He patted her hand. “But now that you’ll be staying here, maybe you can talk him into finding a more useful hobby.”
“Disposing of dead bodies,” I muttered under my breath.
“Here we are!” Rayford stopped in front of the sleek brushed silver elevator doors, pretending like he hadn’t heard me. He couldn’t miss the glower I sent in his direction, however, or the Leave us alone! I transmitted directly into his brain.
After almost thirty-five years of knowing someone, telepathy is a given.
In one of the most unfortunate turns of phrases I’d ever heard, he said, “I’ll leave you two rabbits to it!”
He pressed the “Call” button on the elevator and went on his way down the hall, his footsteps and jaunty whistle echoing off the marble.
We got into the elevator. When the doors slid shut, Bianca said doubtfully, “Rabbits?”
I sighed. “I’d fire him, but he’s my only friend.”
“I’m your friend, too,” she said.
When I looked down at her, she glanced away and started to chew the inside of her cheek.
Friends. That should have made me happy, but it didn’t. It made me want to break something. Which is how I realized this lie of convenience was much more to me than just a business deal. I raked a hand through my hair and blew out a breath.
Bianca said quietly, “Was that the wrong thing to say?”
“No. Of course not. Why do you ask?”
“Because when you get really aggravated, you stab your hands through your hair.”
“I do?”
She nodded. “And you bristle. You literally get larger somehow. It’s freakish. Also you make some very unnerving animal sounds and have serial killer eyes.”
“What a charmer,” I muttered, crushed.
“It’s not all bad,” she said, looking at the ceiling.
My ears perked up, but I didn’t want to sound too eager, so I said with utmost disinterest, “Do tell.”
“Well. Um. You smell amazing. After you stopped murdering me with your eyes and I got past all the hair and your generally disheveled, hobolike appearance, it was the first thing I noticed about you.”
What a strange tingle that was, skittering over my skin. I didn’t dare speak and prayed for the elevator to go slower.
My silence prompted her to add, “And you have a really beautiful voice. If you ever decided not to be a layabout rich person, you could have an incredible career as a phone sex operator.”
Holy fuck. She thought I had a sexy voice.
For a second I stopped breathing. After my lungs remembered what their normal function was, I said, “Layabout?”
The elevator doors opened. Neither of us moved.
She said, “You’re right. That was rude. What’s an inoffensive word for idle?”
I wasn’t at all offended, because layabout and idle were both pretty accurate descriptions for how I spent my days, but I was enjoying the compliments too much to let this conversation get steered off topic. “Maybe you could tell me a few more things you like about me to make up for your horrible manners.”
The elevator doors began to slide shut, but I put out a hand, and they opened again. I looked at Bianca, my brows raised, waiting.
Under my stare, her cheeks faintly colored.
Christ, how I liked that.
