Page 202 of The Way I Hate Him
“Exactly what you said to me this morning,” Hayes jokes. I give him an exasperated look that makes him laugh out loud. “You walked into it, babe.”
“And I thought you were better than that.”
“I might be more mature than others, but I’m still a man.”
“That much is true.” I continue to examine the large brown stain. “You know, I think this might be a winner. Not sure anyone could get out that stain.”
“Would you try?”
I shake my head. “That’s part of the game—loving the tablecloth for what it’s worth. I mean, would you look at an old person and say, the wrinkle between your eyes makes you hideous, and therefore, I won’t dare associate with you?”
His brow cocks up. “I’m not sure anyone would say that to an old person.”
“You never know,” I say as I gather the tablecloth and fold it neatly. “People have real problems with wrinkles.”
“I don’t mind wrinkles.”
“I gathered that, given the wrinkles by your eyes, old man.”
His brows raise as shock passes over his features, causing me to smirk. “Excuse fucking me?”
I’m laughing as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls my back into his chest. Speaking closely to my ear, he says, “If I were an old man, I wouldn’t have been able to fuck you the way I have the past few weeks.”
“Call it late-term adrenaline.”
“Guess I won’t be able to deliver tonight then, won’t want to wear out my geriatric hips.”
“I’m surprised you can walk without your cane right now,” I say just as he bites down on my neck, causing me to squeal.
“Watch it,” he mutters into my ear. “You won’t want to see me prove my vitality.”
“Oh no,” I deadpan. “That would be horrible.”
He chuckles and kisses my cheek. “Come on, smart-ass. Let’s purchase that tablecloth. We have one more store to hit up.”
“Okay, but if you need your afternoon nap, just let me know.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. Kissing the top of my head, he whispers, “You’re in so much fucking trouble tonight.”
* * *
“What about this one?”Hayes asks, holding up a garden landscape puzzle.
My nose cringes at his suggestion.
Well, at every suggestion he’s made.
“What’s wrong with this one?” he asks, visibly insulted that I don’t like his puzzle choice.
“Nothing about it is interesting,” I say.
“What do you mean nothing about it is interesting?” He glances at the picture and then shows it to me again. “The flowers are vibrant. There’s grass, a blue sky, and look . . . a pigeon.”
“Ew, who likes pigeons?”
“People like pigeons,” Hayes counters.
“No one likes pigeons. And if someone likes a pigeon, they might need to rethink their choices. I’d never associate myself with a pigeon lover.”
