Page 75 of Rules to Love By

“Fuck off.”

Tris cackled. “He is so good for you.”

“I don’t need his rules.”

He flicked his gaze up, but only for a second before going back to his work. “Then it won’t matter one way or the other. You’ve gone weeks out here on your own, and you’re sad. And it’s been years dating by whatever set of rules you’ve made for yourself. How does it hurt to go on another date and see what happens? He turns out to be like me, too bossy, and you don’t like it. You end up friends. Not so bad.”

Marcus got the impression Tris’s attention on his damn cookies was a lot more intense than it had to be. But maybe… if he just kept his eyes down like that maybe Marcus could say the thing he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to admit. Or maybe he was?

“Or I do like it,” he blurted.

Tris glanced up, pixie face set in a playful grin, and he winked, then looked back down at his cookies. But his voice was soft and serious. “Also not bad, Marc.”

After that, the kitchen started to get busy, and Marcus, not wanting to get in the way or get recruited to help with more tasks, snuck back to his bedroom, then out to the balcony to stare off into the afternoon’s melting spring muck and pet Emma.

“You’re an easy cat,” he told her.

She purred under his hand in agreement.

When Tris settled next to him on the swing, hours later, Emma meowed at him, annoyed, until she set eyes on the giant salad bowl he’d brought with him. Feet tucked under her chest, she focused big eyes on the movements of Tris’s fork.

“What you got there?” Marcus peered into the bowl.

“Salad. But she’s probably more interested in the salmon flakes.” He looked down at the cat. “Which are not for you.”

She clicked at him and continued to watch.

“What the hell does that mean?” Marcus asked, chucking her under the chin.

“I always thought it was a noise they made when they were hunting. So…” Tris eyed her. “Not for you, demon kitty.”

Marcus winked at her. “I’ll save you some.”

“Pushover.”

“She’s not making demon hunting noises in my direction, is she?”

“Point.”

They sat and ate out of the same bowl for a while, not even needing to talk. When Marcus had his fill, he sank back and pushed the swing with his feet while Tris propped himself against the arm, feet crossed in front of him, and continued to pick at the last of the meal.

“You’ve been working hard,” Tris said after a bit more silence passed between them.

Marcus glanced up to where Tris still cast suspicious glares at the cat. “It’s been a good job. Painting the back wall took longer than I expected, but it turned out really good. Mr. Benson loves the diamonds, and I can use them to build boxes the same shape to house way more product than a traditional shelf.” He gushed about his ideas about the display area until Tris finally put down his fork, giving him a raised-eyebrow look.

“Sorry,” Marcus muttered. “Guess I’m a little bit into it.”

“I guess.” He tilted his head. “You talk to Eli lately?”

“He’s not here.” Marcus ignored the instinctive tightening of his throat. Eli had gone back to the city for his job a week ago, when the elaborate paint job had begun, and that had been the last Marcus had heard from him. He shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t like such a thing had never happened before.

“You know, if you got a phone, he could maybe call you. Or you could call him.”

Marcus said nothing. It was logical, but also annoying to have pointed out.

“Fuck, you’re aggravating. Here.” Tris pulled his phone out of his back pocket and held it out.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

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