Confused, I watched as she went about her task of unpacking her bags, and then, calm as you please, declared, "I need a room to work."
"Yes, your highness," I intoned quietly, mostly relieved that she wasn’t going to make me talk about a shipment of illegal guns.
Christ.
Just because she was under my roof didn’t mean she was within the umbrella of our business.
I clambered to my feet, hissing as my weight settled on my knees, then ignoring her pointed look, headed for the dining room. We never used it and the table was massive, large enough for three workspaces, never mind one.
After I showed her the space, she turned to me and asked, "It sounds as if your stay of grace is over."
"It couldn’t last forever. I was fortunate to have the time I did."
"I’m sorry if I triggered—"
"You weren’t the catalyst. Business stops for no one." I cast her a look. "Will you be all right in here?"
"Yes. I need to reschedule the meeting with Jen."
I nodded. "Just make it an hour or two earlier."
"You’d be okay with that?"
"Yes. We can eat there. I’ve had enough of Conor’s housekeeper’s food. She only makes pies."
"Pies?"
"Yeah. Pies. You know, pastry with a filling?" I joked, trying to make up for sniping at her earlier.
"That’s all she makes?"
"Variety isn’t Conor’s strong point. He’s getting better though. Our nephew, Shay, is making him try new stuff. It doesn’t always work. Con used to be obsessed with steak, but now it’s pies."
She laughed, and the sound filled me up like my insides were an empty well and she was rainfall.
The urge to go to her, to slip my hands around her waist and haul her into me was strong. I fought it though.
We might be weird together, might mean more than either of us knew how to deal with, but some things had been out of bounds for so long that this was going to be a hard habit to break.