Page 39 of Kiss Marry Kill
“Oh God, I’m never leaving this house again.” She thumped her forehead on his shoulder.
He chuckled and patted her head. “Don’t go off on your own, or anything. But you don’t have to stay imprisoned in here either. There’s still a month before the tour is supposed to start, and by then we’ll have a handle on things.”
She lifted her head and sat down next to him. “You sound very sure of that.”
“I have a good team.”
“Good. Looks like we’re going to need it.”
He shook his head and closed his laptop, turning towards her. “What would you have done today if things were different?”
“I would’ve gone to Pilates or worked on my yard, but now that’s shot—since, well . . .” He winced, following her line of vision to the now barren yard. “Oh, with everything going on, I forgot all about the fittings I have today with my stylist. What am I supposed to do about that?”
Jax winced in sympathy. “I have the guys coming in to finish some things around the house. I don’t want you feel penned in, babe, but I don’t think I can go with you today. You’re going to need to postpone it.”
She groaned and narrowed her eyes at him. “One minute you’re all for me living my life, and the next you’re asking me to postpone something that I have to do. For my career. For the tour that is just a month away. The tour that you convinced me not to cancel, remember?” Megan hated the bite to her voice, hated that she knew Jax was right, hated feeling so uncertain and out of control in a way she hadn’t felt in years. When Jax opened his mouth—probably to start a fight, she thought snidely—she held up her hand. “I’ll figure it out.”
Jax wisely just nodded and left the room. Well, if she couldn’t come to the fitting . . . grabbing her phone, she decided she’d just have to make the fitting come to her.
Megan was pushing her couches toward the far wall of the living room when Jax walked back inside the house a few hours later.
“I hope you’re ready. The estrogen level in the house is about to climb to dangerously high levels,” she said, breathlessly.
“What are you doing?” He gently moved her aside, gesturing toward one of the couches. “Where do you want this?”
“Just push it against the wall.”
“You have a shitload of rooms in this house, why are you moving furniture around?”
“My stylist is on her way and so is Nelly. We need space and good lighting. I have a bunch of things to try on and pick out for the tour.”
He reached out, and wrapped a finger around a strand of hair that had fallen out of the bun on top of her head. “Are you still mad at me?”
“No, it’s not your fault. It’s Ryan. I’m just frustrated. Are you mad at me? I can be a little cranky in the mornings.”
He was standing close, his hand hovering by her face, enthralled by the hair on his finger. “I don’t remember that about you. I remember you being . . .”—he let go of her hair and looked at her—“ . . . rather sweet in the mornings.”
She gulped. He was so close, and smelled and looked so good.
“Should I make myself scarce?”
“Up to you.”
“Will I have to turn in my man card if I stay?”
She chuckled and kissed his cheek. “Probably.” And then she went to open the front door. Once the women began organizing racks of clothes, Jax got back to work.
* * *
Megan was standing behind an ornate room divider she’d brought down from her room, trying on a too-tight royal blue bandage dress her stylist had insisted she try on.
“It’s Jax. He eats unhealthily,” she said, wiggling herself into the dress that barely went past her ass.
“Yeah? He brought you Nutella?” Nelly laughed. “And it’s only been like three or four days since he’s been around.”
“Shut it, sister. The Nutella is for emergencies. The pizza and sandwiches are the problem.” She grunted, finally able to slide the dress all the way on. “As well as the chips and cookies I spent all day eating at his house.”
“If it makes you feel any better, that one didn’t look good on me, either.” Nelly noted. “I vote on the white pants and top for the first half. It’s from Taylor’s line, so she’ll love it.” Nelly poured herself some more wine as she spoke. “Oh, did I tell you I had lunch with Tamara again?”
