comes around the corner, stooping over to avoid hitting his head on my doorframe as he walks into the kitchen. I just stand there, my weapon and DNA-collection strategy forgotten.
“Hey, Jenny.” His eyes travel from my face to my hand, and then to my weapon. “Not expecting me, I take it.”
I slowly lower the corkscrew to the counter and place it down gently. I’m trying to rein in the emotions that want to run wild all over this guy. He is so lucky I didn’t have a knife in my hand; I might very well have thrown it at him, given how mad I am right now. I cannot believe my sister sent Dev in her place. My heart is breaking.
He holds up my laptop in front of him as a shield. “I come in peace.”
I shake my head slowly. My sister has violated so many sections of the Sister Code today, I don’t even know where to begin as I try to list all of her transgressions in my head.
“Is that wine for me?” he asks, glancing at the counter.
I look at the two glasses. “No, actually, the wine was for me and my sister. But I guess she was too busy to bring me my laptop or to sit down and chat with me.” I don’t know whether to cry or throw the wine glasses across the room. I’m considering doing both.
Dev takes a couple more steps into the kitchen and puts the laptop down on the counter. “She was going to bring it over to you herself, but I asked her if I could do it instead.”
I stare at him and blink a few times.
“Are you mad?” he asks cautiously.
I huff out a breath. “Not at you.”
“Don’t be mad at your sister. She thought she was doing a good thing.”
“A good thing? By avoiding me?”
“No. By sending me over.”
“Why would you coming over here be better than her coming over?”
His face goes a little red and he shrugs. “I don’t know . . . maybe she . . .” He stops there and stares at the wine.
Oh, God. She didn’t! She’s not! She’s not playing matchmaker is she?! Ack!
I can’t look at him anymore; it’s too embarrassing. “Never mind. Here, have some wine.” I hand him a glass, sloshing a little wine out of it in the process. I grab my drink and mumble under my breath, “I know I’m going to,” before taking a big swig of it.
Dev takes his glass and holds it up in front of him. “Cheers.”
I’ve already taken a huge sip, but I hold my drink up too and nod as the two glasses touch. “Cheers.” My voice comes out strained because my wine has shrunk my vocal cords or something.
He takes a sip and winces. He tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace.
“What?” I ask. “You don’t like wine?”
“No, I do. Just not . . . white wine.”
I snort at his obvious lie. “No, you mean crap wine. I get it. I’m not one for splurging on alcohol, I guess.” I shrug as I stare down into the glass I’m taking another sip from. Sip, gulp . . . who’s counting?
He takes another very small drink from his glass. “No, don’t worry about it. This is great.” He holds the glass up at me again and grins really hard.
I shake my head and speak softly, trying not to be charmed by the fact that I can read every last emotion he’s experiencing on his face. “You are such a terrible liar.”
His grin is sheepish. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
I’m sure he thinks I was insulting him, but I wasn’t. I have this thing against men who are good at lying. It’s refreshing to be standing in front of one who’s only good at telling the truth.
I lean on the edge of the counter. A glance at the clock tells me it’s almost ten. “Don’t you have to get back home to your son?” Another sip has my glass almost empty, and it’s a big glass, too. Normally, I’d care about coming off as a lush, but not tonight. Tonight I’m kid-free and pissed off . . . a powerful combination. Bring on the alcohol!
“He’s with my mother right now. She helps me out a lot.”
Kid talk. I can hang with that, even when I’m buzzing. “Does she come to your house, or do you take your son to her?”
“She comes to my place. My son is . .