Page 44 of Mayhem and Minnie

“Minnie!” I groan aloud.

“What? I don’t understand why you’re so upset with me.”

Shaking my head, I shrug my shirt off and throw it to her.

“Put that on.”

She mumbles something under her breath but does as told. With her height, my shirt is more like a dress on her and it finally covers everything that might have tempted me to gawk like a goddamn horny teenager. Of course there are still her legs, and they’re very nice legs indeed.

Focus, Marlowe! It’s not the time to admire her legs.

Perhaps her time in prison changed her views on nakedness since she wouldn’t have had much privacy there.

When she’s covered, I finally dare to get closer to her. I lean down to pick up the pieces of broken plate so she doesn’t cut herself on them. She gets to her knees to help me clean up and through this proximity, her scent wafts toward me.

She’s…clean.

I inhale deeply.

There’s the scent of soap, but there’s also something else. A sweet scent that tickles my senses.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again.

“It’s just a plate.” I sigh. “Did you find anything to eat?”

She shakes her head.

I throw the broken pieces into the trash bin and go to the fridge. I take out a couple of premade sandwiches and hand them to her.

She licks her lips as she stares at them.

Good God! You’d think she hasn’t eaten in forever when just a few hours ago she had a full meal. But just as that thought crosses my mind, I berate myself. She probably hasn’t eaten in so long that she’s perpetually hungry.

Glancing back at my fridge, I realize I’ll need to restock it soon.

“Thank you so much,” she exclaims as she grabs them.

She quickly unwraps them and wolfs them down in a few bites. And when she’s done, she licks her fingers for any remaining trace.

“We’ll get more food tomorrow,” I find myself telling her. “We’ll go grocery shopping and you can pick up whatever you want.”

Her eyes widen with wonder.

“Really? I’m not that picky. I can eat mostly anything.”

“I can see that,” I mutter drily.

She doesn’t notice my jibe, still sucking her fingers dry.

“Come with me,” I say as I turn to leave the kitchen.

For the thousandth time in one day, I ask myself what the hell I’m doing. I should already be planning her murder—something novel and exciting—but instead, my new fantasy seems to be to fatten her up.

I’m out of the kitchen when I realize she’s not following. I turn, raising a brow at her.

Her hand is covering her mouth, her entire body shaking with amusement.

“And what’s so funny?” I ask as I tilt my head to the side.

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