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“Who’s Lars?” I ask, pretending I don’t remember and Blaise clears his throat, the sound full of satisfaction. In fact it even looks like his chest is inflating a little. Stroke a guy’s ego and he’ll be eating out of your hand.
He shifts in his seat, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “Tense, Miss Crichlow. You said I`m tense...?” he continues because apparently I struck a chord.
I twist my fingers, trying to be careful with my words. “All I mean is that you’re a little on edge. But maybe that’s because I’m used to seeing you with Muffin Man who’s a little more cheerful...”
“Who?” he interrupts and I bite my tongue, adding hesitantly,
“The man who usually accompanies you.”
“Felix?” he answers. “You call him Muffin Man?” I can’t really tell what he thinks about that but he doesn’t wait for an answer. “Do I even want to know what you call me?”
“N...no,” I stammer in a low voice and he frowns, brushing a hand through his shiny hair in frustration.
“I demand you tell me at once.”
I sink into my seat, then whisper, “Salty Suit.”
Blaise throws me an aggressive look, drumming with his finger on the steering wheel.
“But we don’t mean anything bad by it...” I start when he sneers,
“Spare me your explanations. I care very little for those.”
“Got it,” I say, crossing my arms and I stare right ahead. At least the weather is good. No blizzard. Just a couple of snowflakes swirling here and there.
“I dance Tango every Tuesday,” Blaise suddenly says, just out of the blue and my eyes widen right before I burst out into laughter. And then I can’t make myself quit.
His lips thin. “Damn you, stop laughing,” he orders but I don’t listen and he barks, “What’s so funny?”
“I just...I just can’t imagine you doing that,” I giggle and he straightens, glancing at me with a challenging look on his face.
“Why not? You think I don’t know how to have fun?”
Well...mindless fun isn’t exactly a word synonymous with Blaise, but I suppose I could be wrong.
I shrug helplessly. “When was the last time you went on vacation?”
“Ten years ago,” he says with a clenched jaw and it kinda proves my point.
Pointing at his hand I say, “Clearly you could need one. And by the way, your knuckles have whitened.” From holding his steering wheel too hard.
He looks taken aback like he didn’t even think about it and his grip loosens.
“Deep breaths, Mr. Pendragon,” I say with a smile, “Deep breaths.”
“Are you mocking me, Miss. Crichlow?” he asks and I shake my head.
“I wouldn’t dare. Besides, I need you.”
“You need my services,” he clarifies.
Nodding I say, “If you accept you’re going to be a hero.”
“Who’s hero would that be?” he asks dryly as if he couldn’t care less. “Yours?”
I inhale when the air around us suddenly thickens from electricity. Clearing my throat I say, “Mine, everyone’s...You’re going to help save the world.”
He raises his brow. “I haven’t said yes, yet. You still need to prove yourself to me.”
