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Grumble bear.I attempt to deliver another handful of chips into my mouth. Half of them flutter to the floor, I’m shaking so hard. I merely shrug. I don’t think I could form a satisfactory response if I tried—and, if Marco is at all like my brother, nothing will placate him on the issue of locked doors. He is naïve if he thinks his scolding can accomplish what Tripp’s has not in the seventeen years we’ve been siblings.
He stares at me for a moment before shaking his head. Yep, Tripp does the exact same thing when I don’t bow to his epic wisdom.
Marco closes the door behind him and plants his palms on the counter. “What’s up?”
Still crunching, I shrug again, wondering why he’s here.
Now he stares at me, watching while I eat, dark eyebrows pulling together. What’s his deal?
The foil crinkles as my hand dives for the final remains. They elude my trembling fingers, so I upend the bag and pour straight into my mouth. Or try to. Most of the crunchy debris ends up on my shirt or the tile.
“You alright?”
Swatting at my t-shirt, I nod, but I’m actually not that great. I’m still quivering like a leaf in November.
Marco leaves his perch at the end of the island and opens the refrigerator, retrieves a half full bottle of orange juice, pours me a glass, and hands it across the granite. Our fingers brush when I take it. I wonder how he knew just what I needed.
Draining the glass, I set it down, swiping my hand across my lips. “Thanks.”
A single nod.
“I haven’t eaten all day.”
His forehead bunches with…concern? “Why not?”
Well, lots of reasons, I suppose. I shrug.
Those dark eyebrows swoop into a fullv.“Are you anorexic?”
My jaw drops. “Oh. My. Gosh. That’s so rude!”
His whole face crinkles. “It is?”
“Uh, yeah.” Who asks a thing like that, point-blank and all? And he says he has sisters.
He lifts one buff shoulder. “Sorry.” I don’t think he means it in the least, and his next words confirm my suspicions. “So, are you?”
I slam my hand to my hip. “No, I am not anorexic, Marco. But thanks so much for asking.”
While he deserves a sound rebuke, my brain is too sluggish to do the job properly, so I’ll let this one slide. He did help me out, after all. Besides, the twitching of his lips is getting to me, reducing the heat of my anger.
“I am sorry,” he repeats.
“No, you’re not.”
He smiles all-out, white teeth gleaming. “You’re right. I’m not.”
I fight a smile of my own. “For future reference, that is not a question you ask a woman.”
“But what if—”
I shake my head. “No, Marco. Just,no.”
Tucking his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, he shrugs. “Whatever.”
Oh, I pity the poor woman…
“So, what are you going to do now?”
