Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
"Of course," she says. "Silly me. We'll absolutely get married at the courthouse just to clear things up."
I give breakfast another genial stir, wondering how we're going to get out of this mess. "Can we eat our food first? And bathe? And change clothes?"
And possibly escape this planet?
Somehow?
Because if we don't marry, they are going to ask questions. And if they ask questions...everything is going to collapse around my ears.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
MAEVE
Well, this is a disaster.
I keep smiling. And smiling, and smiling. I act like I'm having the best day ever, and all the while my heart is thudding madly in my chest. I should have guessed that Simone would come looking for me. I have a schedule I keep, rain or shine. I always go into town after breakfast, and I always stop by Simone's booth. Me not coming in for two days probably made her fear the worst, so I shouldn't be surprised that she's here with two custodians.
And now for some reason, Zhur has a bright orange face. He's smiling, too, stirring the food in the skillet so roughly that it's slopping over the edges. I can tell he's panicking inside. There was one thing he was very clear about, and it was that he wanted to avoid the authorities.
I need to fix this somehow.
"Darling, you're making a mess," I say to Zhur, stepping forward. "That's not how you stir." I take the spoon from him and glance at the others. "He's new to cooking. Says it's a woman's chore. You know how these aliens get." I wink at the two custodians, as if we're sharing a joke. "No offense."
I could swear that the larger one blushes. The other just grins like I've said something funny. "It's definitely an adventure with humans. You sure you don't need anything from us?"
"We are absolutely fine, I assure you." I beam a smile in their direction. "And we'll get that marriage certificate taken care of. Maybe tomorrow, since it looks like it might rain today."
"The weather does seem cloudy," the taller of the custodians agrees. "We have to open a report on the situation out here, so once you get the marriage cert taken care of, stop by our office and we'll close out the report. All right?"
"Perfect, thanks." I stir the food slowly and turn the heat down. "Like this, darling. When it bubbles, you know it's close to done. You want it to simmer now."
I sneak a glance over at my friend. Simone looks openly skeptical, her eyes narrowed. She makes a gesture with her hand, raising her thumb slowly. She's asking if I'm all right, if I need help. I give her a tiny thumbs-up and nod when no one is looking.
I appreciate that she wants to rescue me, but right now it's the last thing poor Zhur needs.
"See you soon, then," one of the custodians says.
"You're coming by tomorrow?" Simone prompts, her arms crossed over her chest. "So I can make you the breakfast rolls you like? I won't make a batch if you're not swinging by."
"Then I will absolutely swing by," I reassure her, even though it sounds more like a threat than a baking request with her tone. "See you tomorrow."
We manage to usher the custodians out of the house, along with Simone, and I wave cheerfully and promise to come in tomorrow, no matter the weather, and remain at the door until the air-sled takes off into the sky. Once I'm sure they're gone, I race back to the kitchen, where the food is turning into a burned crust at the bottom of the skillet.
I move it off the burner and eye Zhur. He looks...shaken. "You all right?"
"I will be once my heart returns to my chest."
"Is that a metaphor? Or does your heart really move out of your chest?"
He shoots me a look and then runs his claws through his mane. Orange powder rains down on the counter and the floor, and another piece of hay follows. "That could have been a disaster."
"You mean it wasn't?" I joke, moving to the window and opening it to get the smell of burned food out of the kitchen. "I'm sorry about the whole 'mail order husband' thing. It was the only reason I could think of on the fly. Lots of the women here take a husband, and I know there's a few praxiians living here with human wives. I thought it might defuse the situation. I think I've just made it worse, though."
He grunts.
That's...not a great answer. I turn and lean back against the counter, eyeing him. "I suppose now is as good a time as ever to ask why you covered your face in spices?"
He shoots me a look. "Because a praxiian with a snow-white mane is instantly recognizable. It is something I should have thought of before now. Orange is a more normal color amongst the common."