“The explosives crew didn’t notice your return in time.”
“Ah.” That explained it.
“Your expression of pained tolerance during our every encounter…” That small, smug smile reappeared on his stupidly handsome face. “It sparked such joy in me, I should have filmed a Marie Kondo special.”
“You were fucking with me this entire time.” Three years. Three damnyears.
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Because I enjoyed it.”
“I imagine you did.” She raised her own brows. “But you also wanted your privacy, and playing the role of Bro Chad ensured I’d keep my distance.”
He flicked a hand, indicating his vast, secret underground bunker in silent confirmation. His was not the home of someone who enjoyed neighborly socializing. Or Miller Lite, for that matter.
After a glance at the nearest masterwork of minimalist design, a bronze-edged glass console table, she returned her attention to him. “Everything here is gorgeous, obviously. But…don’t you need a comfy couch and TV somewhere so you can binge-watch the newest Netflix show before it gets prematurely canceled?”
He drew himself up to his full height. “My home contains all the modern amenities.”
Modern amenities, she repeated silently. A surprisingly old-fashioned phrase for someone who seemed very contemporary in his tastes. Of course, if what she suspected proved true—
“In my media room, I have a state-of-the-art television and various streaming options.” He sniffed. “And my sofas feel likeclouds filled with the luxurious down of a thousand denuded geese.”
Apparently defensiveness brought out his eloquent side.
“I see.” She disguised her snicker as a cough, smothering it against her fist. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to insult your very nice basement or hurt your feelings. I’m extremely grateful you’re sharing your shelter with me.”
Which was the honest truth, for all her semi-hysterical hilarity. Only a fool would anger someone who could murder her with such terrifying ease and who was currently hiding her from ravenous zombies. She liked her brain. She’d prefer that it remain encased safely in her skull.
His lip curled. “You think youhurt my feelings?”
The very idea seemed to offend him further.
“Uh…” She scratched the tip of her nose with a ragged nail. “No. Of course not.”
“I told more convincing lies in my cradle,” he informed her.
“I apologize once more, then, for…” The gods and goddesses alone knew what had his thong in a twist now. “For implying you have feelings?”
It was her best guess.
And evidently it was wrong, because now he was outright glowering at her. “Of course I have feelings, human. I experience many emotions. Anger. Impatience. Disgust. Boredom. Schadenfreude.”
Wow, his daily existence soundedfun.
“Not a single living creature on this planet can hurt those feelings, however. The opinion of a woman delusional enough to consider foil-wrapped foodstuffs a suitable weapon against zombies certainly means nothing to me.”
Of course her opinion meant nothing to him. Why would she believe otherwise?
She lifted a shoulder. “In my defense, I got extra guac on my burrito, so it’s really heavy. Top of the line as far as burrito cudgels go.”
“You wish to justify your actions?” A hint of menace had entered his tone. “Because I would welcome a discussion of your stupefying idiocy earlier this evening.”
She shouldn’thaveto justify her actions, since they’d been undertaken with his continued survival in mind, but if it made him happy…
“Sure. Get it out of your system, Euro Chad.”
