The Price of Inertia (The Seven Sins #4) - Lily Zante Page 0,41
the apron I wear sometimes, especially if I’m doing heavy cleaning. Today is my dusting day. I plan to dust the entire house from top to bottom. “His room smells like a pigsty. I want to clean it while he’s out. Give me a few minutes.”
“And miss the chance to see you dusting? No chance.” He follows me into Ward’s study.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Ward wouldn’t want him here. I speed up my dusting.
“It’s dark in here,” he says, walking around. “Aren’t you going to let down the blinds?”
I tidy up the desk, shifting his items around the desk while giving it a good wipe and polish. “He likes it dark.” I glance up to find Jamie examining things on the coffee paper. What’s wrong with him? He knows better than to poke around. “Hey, don’t touch. Ward doesn’t like it.”
“Relax. I won’t break anything.”
“You shouldn’t even be here. Ward would go mad if he saw you in here.” Ever wary, I polish quickly, moving his things around the desk then putting them back exactly as I found them.
I fold up my blanket and leave it there. He might need it another time, then I run the duster over the leather couch and the coffee table and any surface I can find. I would have polished it properly, pulled up the blinds and let some fresh air in but I’m anxious about Jamie’s presence and I want to be done with this room quickly.
“Pick up some of those things, would you?” There’s no point him snooping around when he can be of use.
“What a slob.” Jamie looks disgusted as he picks up empty bottles of water from everywhere and the empty donut box and junk food wrappers. “No wonder he’s out of shape. Have you seen this?”
I frown. Ward has obviously had a relapse these last few days. He was getting better. “He was starting to get better. He must have had a hard time this weekend.”
Jamie snorts as he walks over with a couple of cans in each hand. I finish setting everything back carefully, making sure that the pens and pencils line up exactly as Ward had left them.
“What are you doing?”
“They have to be arranged just so,” I explain. I see a greasy stain on the corner of the desk, something I’ve missed, and polish it immediately.
“Just so?” Jamie stares at the display. I must admit, I found it strange at first as well, but now I’m used to it. He sets the cans on the desk then picks up a pen and messes up the pencil display. I slap his hand. “Don’t!” I hiss. I grab the pen and set it back, then hand him back his bottles and wipe that area again.
“Is that the pen?” He examines it carefully. “So it is. The MontBlanc.”
“Stop it, Jamie. Put it back.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Are you serious?” He stares at the table in astonishment.
“You’re the one who said writers have rituals. Well, this is Ward’s.”
“Weirdo.” Jamie shakes his head in disbelief.
“He’s not that weird. He’s … it’s just the way he is.” I try to fight in Ward’s corner.
“Just the way he is. A weirdo.”
“I don’t know why he’s the way he is, but he needs things to be in a certain order. You don’t understand. Writing isn’t easy.”
Jamie laughs. “I’m more shocked by the things you’re saying than by this guy’s craziness.”
“Out!” I shoo him out of the room and into the kitchen again. A few moments later, Ward comes in. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, sounding too happy for my liking and making me suspicious.
“Hey, no problem,” says Jamie. “I was just catching up with Mari. Late night?” he asks. I wait to hear Ward’s reply.
He pauses before answering. “I had a lot to catch up on.”
“Your new book. How’s it going?”
Ward is silent and I want to kick Jamie. Can’t he tell that Ward doesn’t want to talk about his book?
Ward says nothing, but pours himself a cup of coffee and sips it. Jamie looks at me, obviously finding this awkward, but I can’t stop looking at Ward. His hair is wet, the rich dark locks hanging just above his shoulders. I much prefer him with an almost beard. I can see the angles of his face better. He seems so different, less angry, less formidable without his Samson-and-Delilah growth. Though his hair is still long. He’s pulled it back into a man bun, like he usually does for the workout, only I