Chapter 57 (1/2)
A revolver. Holy f**k! I had no idea Christian owned a gun. I take it out, slip the release and check the cylinder. It's fully loaded, but light . . . too light. It must be carbon fiber. What does Christian want with a gun? Jeez, I hope he knows how to use it. Ray's perpetual warnings about handguns run quickly through my mind. His army training was never lost. These will kill you, Ana. You need to know what you're doing when you're handling a firearm. I put the gun back and find the scissors. Retrieving them quickly, I bolt back to Christian, my head buzzing. Taylor and Mrs. Jones . . . the revolver . . . At the entrance to the great room, I run into Taylor.
”Mrs. Grey, excuse me.” His face reddens as he quickly takes in my attire.
”Um, Taylor, hi . . . um. I'm cutting Christian's hair!” I blurt out, embarrassed. Taylor is as mortified as I am. He opens his mouth to say something then closes it quickly and stands aside.
”After you, ma'am,” he says formally. I think I'm the color of my old Audi, the submissive special. Jeez. Could this be more embarrassing?
”Thank you,” I mutter and dash down the hallway. Crap! Will I ever get used to the fact that we're not alone? I dash into the bathroom, breathless.
”What's wrong?” Christian is standing in front of the mirror, holding my shoes. All of my scattered clothes are now neatly piled beside the sink.
”I just ran into Taylor.”
”Oh.” Christian frowns. ”Dressed like that.”
Oh shit! ”That's not Taylor's fault.”
Christian's frown deepens. ”No. But still.”
”I'm dressed.”
”Barely.”
”I don't know who was more embarrassed, me or him.” I try my distraction technique. ”Did you know he and Gail are . . . well, together?”
Christian laughs. ”Yes, of course I knew.”
”And you never told me?”
”I thought you knew, too.”
”No.”
”Ana, they're adults. They live under the same roof. Both unattached. Both attractive.”
I flush, feeling foolish for not having noticed.
”Well, if you put it like that . . . I just thought Gail was older than Taylor.” ”She is, but not by much.” He gazes at me, perplexed. ”Some men like older women - ” He stops abruptly and his eyes widen. I scowl at him. ”I know that,” I snap.
Christian looks contrite. He smiles fondly at me. Yes! My distraction technique successful! My subconscious rolls her eyes at me - but at what cost? Now the unmentionable Mrs. Robinson is looming over us.
”That reminds me,” he says, brightly.
”What?” I mutter petulantly. Grabbing the chair, I turn it to face the mirror above the sinks. ”Sit,” I order. Christian regards me with indulgent amusement, but does as he's told and sits back down in the chair. I start to comb through his now merely damp hair.
”I was thinking we could convert the rooms over the garages for them at the new place,” Christian continues. ”Make it a home. Then maybe Taylor's daughter could stay with him more often.” He watches me carefully in the mirror.
”Why doesn't she stay here?”
”Taylor's never asked me.”