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Or maybe douse him in salt. Would that work?
“Maggie? Maggie, are you listening to me?”
“How much salt do we have in the house?”
Ian sighed. She felt a pang of regret. She didn’t mean to be such a trial to him. It was just . . . sparring with him made her feel alive. It made her forget her worries.
She didn’t feel like pulling all her hair until she became bald.
“Sorry. I’m listening. Promise. What were you saying?”
He blinked at her. “What’s wrong?” He tensed, glancing around. “What is it? Is there a threat?”
“No. What? Why?”
“You just apologized. And you were serious. And you were listening to me. Must be the apocalypse.”
She grinned up at him. “Aww, did you just make a joke?”
“I don’t know what’s happening to me. I think I’m possessed.”
She nodded solemnly. “That’s why we need salt. I’ll start stockpiling.”
He eyed her. “Am I going to wake up one morning and find you pouring salt over me?”
“It is a distinct possibility.”
He cracked a smile.
Ian.
Cracked a smile.
She felt like she’d won the lottery. Maggie wriggled with pleasure.
“What’s wrong? Are you all right?” He crouched and placed his hand over her forehead. Which meant his hand basically covered her entire face. Why did he have to be so huge?
“Are you having a seizure? Do you need to pee? Or have you got diarrhea?”
“I don’t have diarrhea!” She shoved his hand away from her face. “Jeez. I was just happy. That’s my happy dance.”
“That was a dance?”
“Yes! I’ll have you know I’m an awesome dancer!”
You couldn’t be a champion ice-skater without knowing how to dance.
He was just being rude.
“If you’re sure. I can run you to the toilet.”
She smacked her hand against his bicep. Ouch! Blast!
Pulling her hand back, she cradled it against her chest. “What are you made of? Concrete? Steel? That hurt!”
“While I appreciate you saying I have muscles of steel, I don’t like that you just hurt yourself. Do not do that again.”
Do not do that again.
