“Yeah, but what was it?”
The irritation he stares at me with isn’t anything new. I’m so used to it that I hardly even acknowledge it. It’s simply the look I associate with Fury now. Finally, he says, “There was a cat and a duck walking down the road.”
“Like, together?”
“Yeah.” When I don’t reply—because this is not at all what I expected him to say and I’m lost for words—he adds, “The cat lifted the duck by the scruff of its neck like it was its baby.”
“Huh,” I say slowly, taken aback by his clear surprise. I mean, the guy’s a hard-ass; I’m surprised that anything surprises him or catches his attention like this. But I like that something so simple and natural as two animals getting along has caught his attention.
“Huh what?” he asks.
I smile, which isn’t something Fury ever brings out in me, but this time he does. “I like your amazement. That’s all.”
He changes the subject completely when he says, “So are you leaving?”
“No. King wants you to have dinner with us.”
The way his mouth pulls into a straight line tells me he loves this idea as much as I do. But he nods and says, “Okay.”
He follows me inside and I feel self-conscious the entire way. My damn attraction to him has me all kinds of flustered. I’m grateful when we reach the kitchen and he carries on out to the back deck where King is.
Good God, Zara, get a grip.
It’s Fury.
Infuriating Fury.
Ugh, but he’s so damn hot.
And moody.
Gah. Why am I always attracted to assholes?
“Zara,” Mum says as I stare out at Fury talking to King, “Can you please make the salad?”
“Yes,” I mumble, tripping over my words and then my feet when I attempt to shift my attention from Fury.
Mum frowns. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I mutter, getting my feet to agree to move without making me look like a klutz.
Mum and I spend the next twenty minutes getting the salads made, the drinks out, and the table set. By the time King and Fury come back inside, I’m sitting at the table feeding Meredith, who is in her high chair. I’m so engrossed in what I’m doing that I almost miss them coming in. However, as Fury walks past me, his arm brushes mine and he slows to look back at me. When our eyes meet, the heat in his is unmistakable, causing butterflies to take up residence in my tummy.
Oh. My.
He’s feeling this too.
As soon as we connect, though, he turns away and keeps going. The moment is fleeting, and when he comes back to the table, his eyes firmly not on me, his face blank again, I almost wonder if I imagined it.
But I didn’t.
I’m sure I didn’t.
Fury takes the seat next to Cade across from me. He still doesn’t make eye contact; instead, he chats with Mum. I realise after a few moments or so that I’m staring at him, so I quickly look away. As I do so, I find King watching me with a frown.
“What day are you heading down to Melbourne?” Mum asks him, drawing his attention from me.
“Next week. Monday, probably,” he says. “Why?”