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“What’s wrong?’ Theo asked. “You look lost.”
I turned to face him and met his eyes. “I don’t really know what to do now that I have nothing to do.”
His lips curved to one side. “Oh, no. You’re one of those people who always needs something to do, aren’t you?”
“I just don’t understand people who can live their lives without structure.”
He tapped his finger against his lips. “There’s still three hours until Blaire brings Ari home. Reckon we can paint the bathroom in that time?”
I thought about it. “We can try.”
***
“I just don’t know how you’ve managed to get paint everywhere.” Theo scrubbed at his face. “It’s been an hour and we’re both covered in it. How?”
In his defense, it was an excellent question. He really shouldn’t have been surprised, though, given the mess I’d made in the utility room. I was bound to get the ice blue paint absolutely everywhere.
At least we’d put dust sheets down. Right?
Not that it had stopped me getting it all over us.
I rubbed a wet corner of my towel in my cleavage. How had it gotten between my boobs?
That was one of life’s great mysteries, I supposed.
“Paint is messy,” I replied. “Especially when you use a roller. It goes everywhere.”
“Everywhere on you.” He looked at me up and down. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Neither do I.” I shrugged and finally gave up with the towel. Honestly, judging by that look, my only option now was to take a shower and scrub the entire top layer of my skin off. “But hey, the bathroom looks good!”
Theo looked around the ice blue and white bathroom. “You think so?”
“I think it would have been better pink, but that’s not my choice.”
He slid me a look with a wry smile. “No wonder you and Ari get along. She’s been trying to convince me to repaint ours pink for the last three months.”
“I don’t know. It seems like a reasonable request.” I tossed the towel into the dust sheet covered bath and slipped past him out of the room. “It’s not that crazy.”
“I’m not having a pink bathroom in my house.”
“Why not? It’s just a color.”
“Because I only repainted it six months ago!”
Oh. “Want me to paint it for you?”
“And get my entire house painted? I think I’ll pass, thank you.”
I grinned, taking two bottles of water from the fridge. “Oh, come on. It’s artistic flair.”
“Getting matte wall paint everywhere is artistic flair?”
“Oh, sure. Banksy can graffiti on walls and it sells for millions, but I do it and I’m not an artist.”
Theo fought a smile. He lost. “Banksy’s art is intentional.”
“Graffiti.”
“What?”
“It’s graffiti.”
“Graffiti is still art.”
“I know but call a spade a spade. If I spray painted a penis on the side of a wall, I’d get arrested.”
“Probably more for the penis than the fact you graffitied it.” He took the water bottle from me. “My point is that Banksy plans his graffiti. You just go on a tear with a roller on a wall and spray the entire room with random sized dots that have no rhyme or rhythm.”
“Well, maybe I like my home décor with no rhyme or rhythm.”
“Do you?”
“No, but you didn’t know that.”
He grinned. “I do now.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you have a child to retrieve?”
He checked his watch. “Not for another hour and a half. Besides, Blaire is dropping her back. She’ll probably come back with pink hair or something.”
“Ooh, I should get some pink in my hair,” I mused.
Theo’s eyebrows shot up. “What is happening? Are you having a mid-twenties crisis?”
“Quite possibly, but dying my hair is a better option than drugs.”
“You have interesting logic.”
“Am I wrong?”
“You are not wrong.”
“Then my logic, as interesting as it might be, is solid.” I grinned and leaned over the island. “Come on. You can’t argue with that.”
“Apparently, I can’t argue with you at all.”
“Ah, finally a man who realizes the futility of arguing with a woman. You’re a real catch, Theodore.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you bloody start as well.”
I laughed, twisting the bottle between my hands. “What’s wrong with Theodore? I like it. It suits you.”
“It’s pompous.”
“Well, you are British.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – ELLE
“I’m not pompous. Most British people don’t speak like the Queen, you know.”
I frowned. “That’s slightly disappointing. You sound a bit like her.”
“I would imagine I do to a degree. I grew up in Chelsea, which is one of the more affluent areas. Although I don’t sound as British as I used to.”
“Really? Did you used to sound like the Queen?”
“What is your obsession with people sounding like her?”
“Prince William’s accent is hot,” I replied. “That’s the kind of accent I want to listen to. Not… Ricky Gervais or whatever his name is.”
“I’m impressed you know his name.”
“Of course I know his name. He makes wildly inappropriate jokes. I like that in a person.”
