He scanned her face and, for a second, she could swear, it looked like he was in pain.
He masked it before she could be sure and he whispered back, “Really.”
Something else wound up tight in her released and relaxed.
So did her body, right into his and he took her weight.
“Can I get my jeans?” she asked softly.
“No.”
Her body got tight again and she pulled slightly away, demanding, “Why not?”
Both his arms released her but only so both his hands could come to her jaw and tip her face up to his.
“Because last night you made a decision and now, today, you’re at home. When you’re at home you don’t have to dress to eat breakfast. When you’re at home you wear whatever-the-fuck you want to wear at breakfast.”
Last night she hadn’t made a decision.
He had.
And he hadn’t let her protest.
He was watching her as these thoughts went through her head and then he interrupted them.
“I can see this may take time to sink in for you,” he said then the devilish grin came back. “Luckily, I’m patient.”
He was not patient.
Or, at least, twenty years ago he wasn’t.
And evidence suggested he wasn’t now either.
“Pren –”
“Muffins.”
“Pren!”
He turned her around the corner that led to the stairs.
Sally saw them the minute they came into view and before Elle could form another protest, Sally shouted, “Hurrah! Now we can bake the muffins.”
Stymied.
With no choice, Elle went to the kitchen and sat on a stool in nothing but Prentice’s t-shirt, sipping coffee and surveying the chaos created by Jason and Sally making muffins.
They’d forgotten to grease the tins so they didn’t have full muffins, just the muffin tops that Jason and Prentice were able to pry from the tin.
Still, they weren’t half bad.
* * * * *
Fiona
Fiona knew it happened because Bella was tired.
She’d had a hectic day.