Page 36 of A Labor of Hate
The amusement lingered in his dark eyes.“Looks aren’t everything, Lex.”
I snorted.“Don’t I know it.Otherwise, I’d have asked you out a month ago.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth, my eyes widening.Where didthatcome from?What in the actual, ever-living heck?Hadn’t I blurted out enough absurdities this morning?Where was my filter?
Let the record show that this was what happened when I didn’t have any coffee.
His reaction mirrored my own shock: wide eyes blinking slowly, his mouth slightly ajar.It should’ve been a very unbecoming look.But curse him and his Eddie Redmayne-like bone structure and freckles, he still looked great.
You know, if you were into that type of guy.Which Iwasn't.
“But, obviously, we’re arch foes, so that would never work,” I rushed out, trying to derail this train of thought, pronto.“I hate you, you hate me.It’s all very equal, don’t you think?”
He finally recovered, his mouth shaping into his trademark smirk.Of course.Unintentionally call him attractiveone timeand now he’d never let me live it down.As if his perfect little head needed any more of an ego boost.
I scowled at him, much more comfortable being annoyed with him than flustered by a stupid slip of the tongue.“You don’t have to look so smug about it, you know.It’s not like I professed my undying love for you.”
“Heaven forbid.”His eyes twinkled in a way that guaranteed I’d be hearing about this for the next few months.Maybe even longer.“This has been anenlighteningmorning.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it,” I grumbled.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”He shot me a pointed look.“Now can I shower?I can’t be late for work.”
“Pretty sure your DNA would explode if you were late foranything,” I muttered, moving out of the doorway, nonetheless.
If I wasn’t mistaken, I could’ve sworn I made him laugh.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Lex’s Top SecretMental Log, Undercover Assignment Days 8-9
The Spouse has been avoiding me.Technically, I can’t prove it, but between grocery shopping, my ballroom class, his accounting job, and busying himself making dinner that I am under no circumstances allowed to help with, we have barely spoken three words to each other for the past twenty-four hours.He was so quiet getting ready for work that he’d snuck in and out and already left before I woke up to do my own workout.Normally this would be fantastic news, but since our last exchange involved me confiding in him against all odds, the lack of interaction is unsettling.What is he planning?I have taken measures into my own hands.
My search for the coffeemaker has turned up empty thus far.I checked every inch of the house, which is how I found the coaster I’d “enhanced” for The Spouse weeks ago nestled in one of the kitchen drawers.This is also how I discovered that The Spouse actually has something resembling a hobby: collecting thrillers, which he presumably reads.
Apple juice is the worst, and I hate it with every fiber of my being.Pun intended, since it has added a new meaning to doing a “juice cleanse.”
Gauthier’s goon squad is still outside watching us, following us whenever we leave the house—all the creepy things short of actually bugging the place.Yet.One of them even peeked into my ballroom class as I was teaching.
Colleen brought a pound cake to the goons out in the car while I was checking our empty mailbox, which is apparently her way of getting the scoop on anything and everything happening in the neighborhood.This morning, they were in a different vehicle further down the road.The results are unclear whether Colleen has been the real superspy among us all along.
I PAUSED MY rewatch ofNapoleon Dynamiteas soon as the sound of an engine accompanied the crunch of gravel in our driveway.Colt had scarcely stepped inside before I cornered him.Or as much as a fake-pregnant woman could corner a man a foot taller than her, anyway.
“I want to call a truce.”
Colt moved to step around me.“A truce?Youwant to call atruce?”
I moved with him, blocking his escape.“Why is that so surprising?”
“Maybe because I had to rearrange my shirts in the closet last night after you decided to‘reorganize’?Or because all the cups were flipped upside down this morning—which is unsanitary, by the way?Or perhaps it’s because all the shoelaces of every pair of shoes I own were switched, but only the left ones?Whodoesthat?”
I didn’t bother trying to hide my grin.Was it petty?Probably.But extreme circumstances called for extreme measures, and the deep-seated uneasiness I felt since confiding in him and then being ignored qualified as an extreme circumstance in my book.“You’ve gone out of your way to avoid me.How else was I supposed to get your attention?”
He graced me with a glorious eye roll and another futile attempt to skirt around me.“Maybe talking to me like an adult?What are you, seven years old?”
“I can’t talk to you if you’re not around.And don’t bother pretending that wasn’t your whole intention behind this.”
A sly smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.“You haven’t found the coffeemaker yet, huh?”
