Page 24 of Taming Her

A pushover?

She sighed and reached for a dark bottle of shampoo. It smelled of pine and geranium, not her usual scents, but she used it anyway.

After washing and drying, she walked naked from the en suite.

On the neatly made bed was a pair of plain gray sweats and a white t-shirt with a Tommy logo.

Deciding against the discarded thong, she slipped the clothes on. They were a fraction big but wearable and smelled of fabric softener.

Whose are these?

With a shrug, she took a brush from the dresser surface and dragged it through her hair. It hung in long damp strands down her back.

Peering in the mirror, she studied her eyes. Even in the dim light of the room they were red-rimmed and dull. It was the kind of day she’d put shades on if she had to venture outside. Trouble was those days were becoming more and more frequent. The shades were a common accessory even in winter.

“Get a grip,” she muttered. “You’ll be fine once you’ve eaten, right as rain after a lunchtime glass of wine.”

Yes, the sooner she got home the better. Away from Griff Dix’s judgmental, bombastic, superior attitude.

“Ah, good, there you are.” Griff looked up from a sizzling cast-iron frying pan. “It’s ready.”

She took in her surroundings again. It was picture perfect, the kind of cottage kitchen she admired in glossy magazines. And the messy, overgrown garden beyond, it was so huge she couldn’t see the end.

“Sit.” Griff gestured to a leather stool tucked beneath the island.

She did as he’d asked. “Whose clothes are these?”

“My sister’s. She comes to stay from time to time, has a drawer of things she leaves here.”

Ava thought for a moment. “Bethany, right?”

“Ah.” He held a spatula aloft.

She glared at it.

“You have a good memory, Ava, Bethany it is. Though I must say I’m surprised you have many working brain cells left.”

“So you saw me partying with my mates at the weekend, big deal. Like a bloody terrier with a rat you are.”

He set a plate in front of her. “Because I know it’s a frequent event.” He slid a knife and fork her way. “Egg-white omelet with spinach and feta. Avocado and roasted plum tomatoes on the side. And here…” He poured two glasses of peachy liquid. “Fruit smoothie with probiotic. Food is medicine, you know.”

Despite her irritation with Griff, her stomach rumbled. This beat takeaway leftovers, which were a common start to her day.

“Dig in.” He put another full plate down and sat beside her, picking up his own knife and fork.

“They teach you to cook at police school?” She shoved in a forkful of omelet as she spied his stab vest and shirt still on the chair.

“The canteen food is crap. I taught myself to cook because I like nice flavors, good textures, and I’m interested in being healthy and staying healthy.”

“So you don’t drink?” She sampled the smoothie. Delicious.

“I’ll have a few to be social, but not often, and definitely not while you’re in the cottage.”

“You won’t have to abstain for long, because after this I’ll be on my way.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Idothink so actually.”

---