Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 35 - You're No Good

“Trying to,” I nod and outline my plans for the meals on the list. 

“Good plans,” she gives me a smile of approval, “Go fold that load and go to bed.  You’ll not be any good to anyone if you exhaust yourself.”

By the time I’m done folding clothes, I’m yawning.  Jill’s nodding off in the living room and I clear my throat to get the guys’ attention and then head-nod toward her.  It’s a rare moment when I can get both an arch-angel and an incubus to blush at the same time.  Another moment I really have to write down. 

“Come on, Jilly,” Drake scoops her up, “Time for bed.”  It’s a little wondrous watching him be as gentle with someone else as he has been with me.  No, I’m not jealous.  It’s actually quite endearing and shows me from the outside what a good father he could have been, had things been different. 

I put the folded clothes back in the now-empty laundry basket.  Drake has carried Jill into the guest room and I don’t dare wake her up to put things in the dresser in there.  

“Leave it, Claire,” Moira looks up from salting eggplant, “Go back to the hotel and get some sleep.  Clark and I are here – it’ll be fine,” she tells me before whipping out a cast-iron pan (that I know Jill doesn’t own) from somewhere and pressing the eggplant to drain them.

I wake to my phone chiming and am again amazed that the selfish, cocky jerk who was so wrong for so many reasons has somehow morphed into one of the most sensitive, thoughtful people I know.  I fell into bed last night without unpacking anything – but he not only pulled my phone out, set it to charge and set my alarm, but – glancing around the room – unpacked and hung up all of my clothes and laid out all of accessories.  Plus my laptop and IPad. 

“Ready for your run, angel?” the devil mentioned reaches over and kisses my cheek. 

“What time is it?” I ask him, already shoving the covers off.  There are a hundred and one things I need to do, at least fifty conversations I need to have and I have to pee like a race-horse. 

“Six,” he chuckles at me, “Plenty of time for a run, a shower and everything running through your pretty-mind right now.” 

“So my mind is what you’re attracted to, huh?” I ask him, heading for the bathroom. 

“Among other things,” he chuckles as I close the door. 

He keeps pace with me the whole way, laughing and joking with me so much that NPR is useless.  And, while I don’t exactly enjoy the running part of it, it’s not nearly as torturous as it usually is.  In fact, we put in two extra miles. 

He watches as I go through my Pilates routine on the monkey bars, but there are no snide comments this time.  Maybe some time away from Miami has been good for him too. 

“I’m headed for the shower,” I tell him as we get back to the room. 

“Me too,” he grins and I giggle, “We don’t have that kind of time.” 

“I guess you’re right,” he pouts, “But don’t think I won’t try again later.” 

“I hope you do,” I wink at him and shut the door. 

When I come out, clean and dry, he has clothes laid out for me – a sleeveless silk dress that starts out as pale green as sea glass and deepens to a nearly forest green at the hem.  Matching shoes are at the foot of the bed along with a chunky bracelet in the same pale-green sits on top of the dress.  And – of course – a matching bra and panty set. 

“I don’t own any of that,” I tell him, cocking my head. 

“You do now,” he grins, “Your two bi friends have excellent taste in European fashion, but half of that stuff is completely impractical for day-to-day.”