Page 48 of Mayhem and Minnie

My features must betray the rage I’m feeling because her smile dies on her lips.

I clench my fists.

The water from the washing machine continues to leak out, now brushing against my ankles.

I should fucking strangle this little heathen. Wrap my hands around her neck until the life seeps out of her features.

Or, even better, I should just grab her, wet as a rag as she is, and dump her in the freezing cold. Then I’d stand at my window and watch as the water droplets slowly turn into icicles and the color of her pallor changes to blue.

It would be nothing less than she deserves.

I take a step forward, ready to throw her over my shoulder and have my way with her—just not in the manner in which she undoubtedly desires.

Her lips tremble as she regards me and she does her best to give me a reassuring smile.

It won’t work.

I’m angry, sleep-deprived, and on the brink of a mental breakdown. All because this slip of a girl decided to turn my house upside down. And the main issue is that I allowed her to.

Fuck. I should have never gotten involved with her in the first place. I should have minded my fucking business on that road and ignored her signs of distress.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I’m now one step away from losing my calm—something I usually try to avoid at all costs.

I spot a towel by the washing machine and grab it, thinking I could use it to smother her. As I step toward her, however, instead of wrapping the material around her neck or suffocating her with it, I drop it in her lap.

“Your hair is wet.”

Her mouth hangs open in shock as she stares at me. Her reaction is delayed, but she eventually takes the towel and wraps it around her hair, murmuring a low thank you.

“Are you going to sit in this puddle the entire night?” I comment when I note she’s not making an effort to move.

“Uhm…” She looks left and right. What the hell is there to be indecisive about?

Shaking my head, I lean and offer her my hand.

Her eyes widen. She bites her lower lip as she reluctantly reaches out and places her hand in mine. I pull her up. But the invasion of bubbles has other plans.

I must have moved my foot while pulling her up because one moment she’s halfway up, the next I feel my heel slip on the slick liquid. In my attempt to balance myself, I pull her down with me, and we both crash to the floor.

The water makes a loud, splashing noise.

My clothes become as drenched as hers, the water seeping into the material. The bubbly liquid reaches my skin, settling in an uncomfortable layer on top of it.

I’m on my back, blinking as I stare at the ceiling.

Minnie is by my side, half of her body on top of me. I can feel her weight and the way her chest moves up and down as she breathes.

She’s still breathing. Because I didn’t kill her when I should have.

And now here I am. Not only in the middle of a disaster of epic proportions but also wet to my bones.

Bathing in detergent-diluted water has never been on my bucket list before regardless of my obsession with cleanliness. And considering the way it sticks to my skin, it’s never going to be either.

Her hand is draped across my midriff. She fists the wet material of my shirt as she brings herself closer to me. She brings her head to my chest, nuzzling her face against my exposed skin.

What the hell is this woman doing?

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