Page 22 of Partnering with the Artist

“For what?”

“Taking so long. I should have said I wasn’t ready yet, but I panicked.”

“It’s no trouble.” Planting my elbows on the table, I thread my fingers together and rest my chin in the cradle. “You’re with a Bachelor, princess. Do try to practice more entitlement. I could shut this place down on a whim, demand they remodel from English to Asian tea, or change anything I wish on the menu. While you’re with me, you own the very ground you walk on. Act like it.”

She blinks. Her mind drifts. I watch a thousand thoughts go spilling through her eyes, then she blinks again, and says, “Giraffes.”

“Giraffes?”

Combing her fingers through her side part, she begins fiddling with the tips of her hair. “Their necks are so long, but they’re still too short to reach the ground. Did you know that?”

How…amusing. “No, I can’t say that I did.”

“It’s because their legs are longer than their necks. If you look at a picture, you can see it. It’s incredible. When you think about a giraffe, you only remember the long neck, not the long legs, or at least when I think about a giraffe, that’s all I remember.” She reels herself back in. “Oh…right. You’re missing context. You said to act more entitled, which made me think of sticking my nose in the air, and that made me think how I probably couldn’t get it high enough, unless I was a giraffe, and…” She begins to melt in front of me. “…are you sure you want to hear all this nonsense? Isn’t it better if I keep this stuff to myself?”

I grin, nestling in. “Not. At. All. Talk more, princess. I lovewatching the way your lips move.”

More red in her cheeks.

Love that for me.

She whispers, “For someone who’s never been in a relationship before, you are…very good with flirting. And you saidbabyearlier so easily. I think I’d die if I tried to call youbaby.”

“In all honesty, I’d prefer you call me something else. I was only tryingbabyon for size since it’s such a common endearment. Did not fit. Princess is far better, though maybe something more explicitly romantic would suit our means more? Darling, perhaps? Dear?My heart?”

“Those are…” she breathes, “…very nice, yes.”

“What did idiot call you?”

Her gaze averts. “Mae. Babe. Chatterbox…”

I think I hate him. What an odd sensation. I had thought I’d reserved that odd, tight emotion quite strictly for my parents alone. Either way, I wonder if Viktor would clear me on the purchase of that body bag…or, no, maybe I shouldn’t tell him about it. I’ll just use the money in my personal account. One-time purchases are easier to get past my brother. “My family doesn’t believe in shortening names.”

“I had noticed that, yes.”

“Idiot was lazy as well as stupid. He scorned the ability to appreciate each of your moniker’s strong syllables.Maelin. Meaning princess. It fits you perfectly.”

“You looked up the meaning of my name?”

“I was curious since I knew your sister’s name was for a goddess of death. It suits her as well. Your parents were…meticulous.”

She chuckles, freeing the strands of her hair. “Yes…well…they’re great.”

Great parents.

I’ve never heard of such a thing.

Thankfully, both our tea and food come before I have to think too hard about it.

“I’m so sorry for the wait, Mr. Bachelor,” our waitress says as she offers to pour our first cups. “It’s super busy back there right now.”

“No worries. I realize we’ve come right at rush.” I can barely spare our frantic waitress a glance while she delivers our plates. My focus rests wholly on Maelin’s staring—entranced—at her tea.

With sudden eager realization, she locates the sugar bowl, pinches a chunk of brown crystals, and somehow manages to send the lump flying across the restaurant, where it hits a woman in the face and falls into her minestrone.

Horrified, Maelin evaporates before my very eyes, caving thoroughly in on herself. “I’msosorry. Ohmyword. I’msorry.”

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing in front of our waitress. There it is, my hit of serotonin. Bless you, Maelin.Bless you.Still unable to pry my eyes off this glorious woman, I say, “Put a fresh soup for that person on my bill, please. And, thank you, this all looks delicious.”

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