I raise a brow. “Retrain?”
She hops out of the closet pulling on her jeans with a wrinkled nose. “Oh, please. You just started replacing the toilet paper.”
“That’s training, huh?”
“Part of it. But we still have a way to go.”
She doesn’t realize I’m in front of her as she pulls a T-shirt over her face. Blinded by the material, I sweep her up in my arms and hear her yelp as I toss her on the bed.
“You ass,” she giggles, a sound I haven’t heard in a while. She slides her arms through the light material of her shirt regaining her balance on the bed and looks up at me through her lashes. Taking a second, I admire the pale freckles that dot her nose and the beautiful smile underneath. I live for that smile.
“No makeup today, we’re in a hurry.” And I like her better without it.
“I wasn’t planning on it, boss.”
She kneels on the bed and looks at me pointedly. “You know, you were a circus animal, and look at you now,” she says, puffing some breath on her nails and polishing them just above her breast. “Living evidence of a job well-done. You could almost pass for a gentleman.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, my beloved.”
“Never said that.” She steps off the bed and waves her hand dismissively. “Now put some of that training to use and make our bed, slob.”
I’m already pulling the six pillows she insisted we needed that no one ever sees off the floors.
“Don’t forget the pillows,” she bellows from the bathroom.
“Yes, dear.”
She pokes her head out. “We could always hire someone.”
We have a lady come once a month to deep clean. I refuse to have anyone in my house in case I decide to get my wife naked on a whim. I do enough acting outside of the house. I don’t want either of us holding back for any reason for fear the staff will hear. And we can do our own damned dishes. Mila agrees with my logic a hundred percent and is just poking the bear because she loves pissing me off. It’s a pastime of hers to do it just enough to get me agitated while luring me into ravaging her. And I let her. Every. Single. Time.
“Lines out, you cheap bastard,” she says, critiquing the way I set the pillows up before dodging the one I toss it at her.
We run lines the whole way to the shooting range.
“That’s hard work, I’m not afraid of hard work,” I snap. “Bring him to me.”
Mila reads as one of Rayo’s soldiers. “It’s not that simple.”
“Make it simple.”
She pauses, turning the page. “Wow. This next scene is brutal.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
She flips another page. “Just in the script notes I can tell Wes is obsessed. It’s overwritten.”
“That’s what I love about it,” I say as we pull up to the lot.
“I’m digging this,” she says with a sigh. Normally by now, she would have read the script twice. Guilty eyes meet mine. “I’ll start and finish tonight. I promise. I’ve been holding a grudge,” she admits. “But that’s over.” She’s finally showing her support, and it’s all I can ask for at this point. After parking the SUV, I reach over the console and grip her face, pulling her to me and kissing her soundly on the mouth. “Thank you.”
“I’m behind you, Lucas. Always. I promise.”
“I’m sorry about last night.”
“You should be. You broke our wine date to play rock star.”
“I am.”