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Declan rolled her eyes and shot him a look over her shoulder. “Yes, they are.” Then, she turned back to me. “The last movie he picked out, I was asleep within the first twenty minutes.”
Saxon closed the door and smirked at me from behind her back. I wanted to laugh, but I kept from doing so.
“I don’t watch much television. I’m more of a reader,” I explained.
Declan grimaced. “I can fix that,” she replied with a wave of her manicured hand, as if I were broken because I read books. “When is the pizza going to be here?” she asked, turning to Saxon as she placed a hand on his arm.
“Uh, well, I thought you were the pizza, so any minute,” he replied.
“Did you get a vegan on gluten-free crust?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “No.”
Declan sighed, and her shoulders dropped, like he had disappointed her. I hadn’t known they made vegan or gluten-free pizzas.
“I’ll go ask Jo to make me a salad then,” she told him.
“Jo left for the day,” Saxon informed her.
Another long sigh. “Then, I will go make myself a salad.” She flashed a smile at me. “Come with? You can help me get the plates and flatware,” she told me, then began walking toward the kitchen.
I looked from her retreating form to Saxon. I didn’t want to be alone with her since I was ninety-nine percent sure this was an act for Saxon. Once we were by ourselves, I feared her claws would come back out. However, I didn’t see a way to escape this, and Saxon said nothing. He just shrugged.
I wanted to sigh this time, but I forced a smile and turned to follow Declan to the kitchen. I had dealt with my share of Declans in high school. I knew what to expect. I’d thought once I graduated, I was done with this kind of thing. Apparently, it was something that not everyone grew out of.
The kitchen smelled clean and was spotless when we entered. I didn’t like the idea of messing it up. Didn’t seem fair to Mrs. Jolene. She’d left it pristine before leaving for the day.
Declan opened up both of the doors to the massive fridge and stood in front of it with her hands on her hips. “I’ve never actually made my own salad. I don’t cook,” she said, then flashed a bright smile at me. “We have a chef for that.”
I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t say anything because I had no polite response.
Declan went back to studying the fridge while letting the cool escape, but reached for nothing. I knew that the Houstons could afford the electricity bill, but the longer she stood there, the more stressed I got. Why wasn’t she getting things out and closing the doors? There was no reason to leave them open like that. When she finally moved, it was to look at me again.
“I don’t know where to start,” she said. “Do you know how to make a salad?”
I didn’t want to make Declan anything, but if it would get her to stop standing there with the fridge doors open, then I would do it. I nodded and walked over to look inside the fridge. Quickly, I grabbed a head of lettuce, some vegetables, and a bottle of dressing.
“Does that dressing have dairy? I’m vegan,” she said, causing me to pause.
It was ranch dressing, so I nodded.
She shook her head. “Can’t have it then.”
I put it back. “There are a few other dressings,” I told her and moved back so she could look at them.
She did a quick glance. “Are any vegan?” she asked me, as if I knew.
“I’m not vegan. I don’t know what you’re looking for,” I explained, feeling more annoyed by the second.
She frowned and reached in to pull out an oil and vinegar bottle. “Just use this,” she told me.
Relieved, I took it and finally closed the doors.
“Are you going to, like, wash and chop that stuff?” she asked me.
Since it all needed to be washed and chopped, I nodded.
She beamed then. “Great. I’ll be in the movie room with Saxon.” Then, she spun around and strutted out of the room without athank youor ado you need help.
