Logan kept his promise to himself. The woods behind the estate felt as cool and welcoming as he knew they would. He sucked the pungent smoke from his Cuban deeply into his lungs, savoring its bite. He was clad in his jeans and a wifebeater tank, and he sat on a tree stump in a small clearing. It was still late summer, but he could smell a hint of autumn on the wind as it rustled the trees.
He wondered how long it would be til his feet itched, and he had to move on.
Ororo opened the windows to her attic, throwing them wide to allow moonlight and fresh air inside. The chamber was lit by candles glowing from sconces, small lanterns, and an enormous pillar on her bedside table. Her skin was so clean that it smarted to the touch. She showered vigorously to relieve herself of the smothering grime and filth offending her senses, forgoing her usual trek through the woods to swim in the lake or to generate a cleansing rain. The steam unknotted muscles and felt good pounding against her scalp and back.
It still didn’t erase Logan’s touch, something that piqued her. She still felt the solid weight and strength of his body against her, his strong, steady hands supporting her or holding hers. Over the past forty-eight hours, she’d grown accustomed to it. It made things…awkward.
It didn’t help that she didn’t have an ear to bend about the brooding loner, either. Jean and Lorna were wrapped up in Scott and Alex, respectively. They hadn’t come up for air quite yet…
It felt odd, occupying the same space as so many men. Moira tersely spoke Ororo’s thoughts out loud, that lately the school was “swimming in too much bleedin’ testosterone.” Bobby and Warren took some time to get to know the “new blood” over a game of eight ball in the den. After several hours of being pent up in the (overcrowded) Blackbird, it felt good to stretch her legs. The men could be men, uninterrupted, for a while. Moira muttered at her to shoo and to take some time to herself when she hovered in the kitchen, wanting to help.
The grounds looked peaceful from her vantage point three stories up. A strong breeze that she hadn’t summoned kicked up and lifted her hair. She smiled; its caress was invigorating.
Jean’s red hair drifting in the darkness caught her eye. She spied her taking a walk by herself, surprised that Scott wasn’t with her.
I needed some air. Ororo felt the gentle mind touch and opened their telepathic link, granting Jean full access, both to her thoughts and her emotions. Ororo’s thoughts were carefully guarded. Charles had expressed great interest in her mind’s natural psychic shields being very strong; he’d suspected her childhood traumas that she described to him were the cause. Ororo willingly granted Jean access as well as friendship formed quickly and grew strong.
I didn’t expect to see much of you, sister. Ororo kept her words bland, and she was rewarded by Jean’s chuckle in her mind.
Stinker. We haven’t been that bad…have we?
The telekinetic barrier around the bedroom door the last time I knocked was my first indication you two wanted to be left alone.
Heh…right. Point taken. Ororo grinned, plowing her fingers through her hair and leaning against the window sill. Hey, Ororo?
Hmmmm?
Why aren’t you downstairs?
Moira banished me from the kitchen.
So? No one’s holding you captive in there, anyway. Go mingle. Get to know everyone.
I already know Bobby and Warren. Her tone was innocent enough, even in her thoughts.
You know good and well what I’m talking about, you! Put your game face on and get down there! Talk about being the bell of the ball, kiddo! Ororo snorted aloud.
It seems silly to get to know everyone if they’re not staying all that long.
Didn’t stop you and me from being friends. I didn’t know if you were planning on staying with us or not.
I knew I’d stay the day we met.
Stinker…quit trying to butter me up. Go downstairs. Wear that pretty dress. The blue one.
Jean, really…isn’t that a bit much? We’re just here in the house, why should I “
The blue one, Jean insisted. Up and at ‘em, Munroe. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.
I’ve got things to do here in the loft. A little cleaning, taking care of my plants “
Baloney. You don’t have any “things to do” except getting your fanny downstairs. What you DO have are NEEDS. Ororo blushed and rubbed her nape. I can feel you blushing, Ororo, you know what I’m talking about!
Brat.
You love me.
Lucky for you. Ororo was already backing away from the window and heading for her armoire. She opened it and began rummaging through neatly pressed items, searching for a hint of blue. Naturally, it was all the way at the back of the rack. She extracted it and stood in front of the mirror, holding it against her thoughtfully.
See? Perfect. Leave your hair down with it and put on some lipstick.
Goddess, you’re so bossy.
If I wasn’t, you’d just languish upstairs like an old maid.
Who are you calling OLD??? Her lips twisted at the sound of Jean’s laughter in her mind.
Admit it, Ororo. You’re enjoying the attention, I bet.
Who, me? Perish the thought.
You are, too. Ororo slipped out of her pajama bottoms and ribbed cotton tank and tugged the dress on over her head, shimmying into it with practiced ease. She stood in the mirror and smoothed her hands over her stomach, right before doing the age-old “is my butt too big?” glance as she spun to take a look. Not bad…
See? The blue dress works. Told you. Ororo’s thoughts telegraphed things that she saw and heard across their link. Ororo smirked and shook her head. And it doesn’t make your butt look big.
You’re biased.
Yes I am. So go downstairs and see how many of ‘em agree with me, Munroe. Chop, chop. Pep talk over…oh. Oh, my…
Jean? Is there something wrong? Ororo paused in brushing her ivory tresses as she caught a hint of surprise and the sensation of butterflies in her stomach. It wasn’t her stomach, she realized.
Ororo…how many times have you actually talked to Logan since he’s been here?
Just a few. Why?
He’s just so…wow.
Wow?
Intense. Scary. A pause. And did I mention hot? Ororo snorted. A warm shiver still managed to work its way down her arms and up her spine, and this time, the butterflies were in her stomach. Hey…you like him.
Goddess, Jean! Smack your mouth for saying such things! Then it occurred to her. Why are you asking me about Logan?
He’s staring at me. And he looks like every type of guy my mom always warned me about. In tight jeans. Ororo remembered how rugged he looked, a study in rough edges and unadulterated masculinity. You know exactly what I’m talking about.
You have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s…so…earthy. Crass. And he cusses like a sailor.
So? He’s not boring.
Don’t tell me you’re suddenly bored? Scott’s wonderful.
I’m not bored with Scott. Her emotions were turbulent, and her “voice” lacked conviction.
All right. I believe you. And I don’t have a thing for Logan.
I never said you had a thing. I said you liked him. Jean sounded entirely too smug, until Ororo read panic in her thoughts. Er, Ororo, I’ve gotta scoot. I’ll be back inside shortly…if I don’t, send out the search dogs? Ororo grunted in disgust.
You’re a big girl, sister. Get your act together. Don’t tease that man. She felt another strange chill, this time from the abrupt break in their connection. Jean had hung up…
Ororo gave her mouth a once-over with her lipstick and puckered in the mirror. It would have to do. She slid on her strappy sandals and trotted downstairs, still feeling nervous and silly. Really. They were men, she was a woman, and they were all houseguests. What was the harm in that?
Her bravado fled shrieking in terror as soon as she crossed the threshold of the den. Six pairs of eyes swung her way as they heard her footsteps against the hardwood floor. John’s eyes lingered, sweeping over her in blatant interest. Hoooooooo… The look in his dark eyes was hungry; he widened his stance and paused in the act of chalking his pool cue. Piotr’s hands stilled on the triangle, ceasing the rattle of the balls.
“Gute nacht, Ororo,” Kurt greeted her. “We haven’t seen much of you today.” His tail flicked slowly back and forth. Her lips quirked at the gesture, and she seated herself on a barstool by the polished cherrywood counter. She avoided smoothing her dress or straightening her hair; her first mission was to find something to say that didn’t make her sound brain cell-deprived…
“Who’s winning?” she replied, smiling brightly. She liked Kurt. Despite his devilish appearance, he immediately made her feel comfortable.
“Piotr’s running the table,” Warren complained, nodding to the tall Russian, who was rubbing his nape and peeking up at her from lowered eyes. He was blushing, and Ororo felt less foolish. Darn you, Jean…I could have just worn jeans. “Charles recruited a pool shark.”
“That’s his other mutant gift, equally unimpressive as his other one,” Shiro snorted around the lip of his beer bottle before taking a swig. John scowled.
“Pussy,” he muttered. Shiro merely sneered.
Ororo’s arched eyebrow shot up as she reached into the small cooler the men had purloined from Moira and helped herself to a cola. Before she could head to the kitchen for the bottle opener, she felt a large, warm hand on her arm, stopping her. She turned to find John very close, scarce inches between them. He plucked the bottle from her fingers and turned to the pool table, propping the edge of its fluted cap against the bumper. He deftly slapped it with his fist, and cool, fizzy mist crackled above its mouth as he handed it back to her. He held it slightly too long, watching her face. A wicked, lazy smile rippled over his lips.
And Jean said Logan was dangerous…Ororo cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
“Any time.” His tone suggested that he was available for less mundane tasks.
“Are you headed out?” Warren inquired. His wings rustled slightly; Shiro tsked under his breath. He found the winged graduate from Xavier’s odd little school smug and self-satisfied. For him, that was saying something.
“Oh. No. Not really, I just…never mind.” She waved the question away. She barely managed not to pull a face when Jean’s thoughts intruded again. What, this old thing?
Quit it!
“Nice change from your uniform,” Warren offered. His smile was impish, the kind of look that sent women swooning over his boyish, blond good looks. Ororo couldn’t remember the first, or even the last time she’d swooned over anything. Or anyone.
“Thank you,” she replied, her cheeks dimpling prettily. “I could say the same of anyone here.” This time Bobby grinned.
“Beats wearing the same clothes for weeks. I can’t smell myself anymore.” This was met with a grimace from Warren.
“Thank goodness for small favors,” Lorna interjected from the doorway, preceding Alex inside. Both of them were casually dressed, possibly for a night out. Piotr, Shiro and Kurt took their time examining her flamboyantly green hair. “You look nice, Ororo.” Her eyebrow quirked; Ororo’s eyes said “Don’t ask.” Then she pondered, “Where’s Wolverine?”
“Logan.” Ororo didn’t stop the name from escaping her lips. “Jean said he’s outside.”
“Speaking of which, where’s Jeannie?” Warren laid down his pool cue. His wingspan widened, making him look like an eagle defending its nest.
“Taking a walk out back.” Suddenly it seemed like a good idea. “I’m going to see what she’s up to.”
“What’s the rush?” John called after her. Disappointment flavored his voice, but he still enjoyed the sight of those long, shapely brown legs flashing as she hurried off.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Warren muttered. Lorna and Alex asked who was playing the winner. Warren left the den without excusing himself or any further preamble.
~0~
Logan didn’t know what to make of Jean’s presence in the woods. She looked out of place, like an exotic hothouse flower that someone transplanted outside. She was certainly beautiful, he considered. He recognized her as the kind of woman who could work a room, both memorable and striking, her looks and dignified demeanor things to be coveted and prized.
He felt mischief rise up in his gut. There was something appealing about ruffling her feathers.
He didn’t snuff out his cigar when he stood to greet her. He noticed she wasn’t even looking his way, her face wearing the same dreamy look of someone focusing on something else. He caught the scent of her hair on the light breeze as he approached.
He was by her elbow, and startled her out of her reverie when he announced, “Hey, Jeannie.”
“OH, SHIT!” she yelped, and she whirled to face him, her cheeks flushing scarlet and her hair whipping about as her hand flew up over her heart. His warm breath was like a caress. “Don’t do that!”
“Sorry,” he shrugged, and his smile was full of devilment. “Whatcha doin’ out here all by yer lonesome?”
“Getting some air.”
“Wasn’t expecting ta see ya in the thick of the woods.” He remembered her retreating with Scott to their suite and hardly seeing hide nor hair of her since.
And she cleaned up nice. Her hair was a rich titian red; he could swear that she’d have fairer, blonde highlights in the sun. Bottle green eyes had faint, wheat yellow burst of color around the pupils, seeming to light them with inner fire. A medium height, curvaceous figure was tastefully dressed in a forest green sweater and khaki jeans. She looked like the typical girl next door.
A niggling thought crossed his mind that he’d acquired a taste for blue eyes, lately.
“It’s a free country. And these are big woods.” She backed away, assessing him. “I don’t want to intrude, though.”
“Ya aint’ intruding.” That smile was still indolent, even impudent. “Are ya afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?” She folded her arms and huffed, a smile twisting her own lips.
“Most people can’t sneak up on someone who can read minds.”
“I did. I ain’t most people.” She agreed.
“What are your plans, Wolverine?” She tried to brush her fingers across his thoughts, but she felt the nearly impenetrable wall surrounding them and backed off. Just like she’d told Ororo, he seemed dangerous.
“Still figuring that out.” He took a hungry drag from his cigar, the gesture causing her to stare at his mouth. His lips were thin but chiseled, the top one sharply notched.
“Charles said that you were recruited. He mentioned you hale from Canada?”
“Among other places.” He wouldn’t volunteer any more information than she asked for.
“There’s a lot of things you could learn here.” This time his laugh was sharp and crackled from his chest.
“Tell me another one. Ain’t much anybody could teach me that I ain’t already learned.” Those dark eyes met hers squarely. “Anything you wanna teach me, Jeannie?” Once again, color bloomed deeply in her cheeks. Her breathing quickened, revealed by the faint flare of her nostrils. That attracted him, enjoying her reaction to him.
“No. I’ll take your word for it, Wolverine.” She turned to go, but his low voice stopped her.
“Scott gettin’ lonely without ya?”
“I’ll ask him that. I’m getting lonely without him.”
“These are big woods,” Logan reminded her, volleying back her own words.
“It’s still a free country,” she trilled back over her shoulder.
“Awwww, don’t run off,” he drawled, drifting after her. He extinguished his cigar in his thick palm, wincing at the sting. Her walk was graceful and brisk; he appreciated the long line of her back and the ripple of her soft hair on the breeze.
“I’m not.” She sounded indignant.
“Then stick around a while.”
“I feel like going inside.” A touch of annoyance flavored her voice.
That was the scene that greeted Warren while he was soaring aloft. His sojourn outside served the dual purpose of pursuing Ororo in her striking dress, and of keeping an eye “ an eagle eye “ on that smug feral. He looked every inch the predator, and that rankled with him. Scott was his best friend. Jeannie was another matter altogether. He’d spent weeks with her, her presence within his mind, assuring him that they’d get out of their murky prison, her telekinesis protecting them all from being crushed and swallowed.
Now he intended to return the favor.
If only the wind-rider weren’t providing such an appealing distraction. Her flight was carefree, her body bending to the will of the wind. Unlike Warren, she rode the winds themselves with no need for technical precision or natural aerodynamics. She possessed the same seeming immunity to the elements, an obvious gift for the woman who controlled them; Warren was gifted with resilient muscle and denser skin tissue that protected him from tearing gales when he flew at high altitude.
She also seemed to be circling, keeping her distance but also drawn to the two people below. Warren wondered about her sudden departure from the den. He chuckled at John’s attempts to get her attention. Nice try, buddy. Try again.
He enjoyed her flowing white hair, a unique trait even for a mutant, along with those eyes, like liquid crystals. This wasn’t a blushing socialite that ran in his father’s circles, which was a refreshing change. There was something untamed and wild beneath her calm demeanor and deep, lilting voice.
He heard Jean’s voice, raised high enough to bring him from his trance.
Jean was hurrying away in a huff. Logan was looking just as smug and like a man on the make.
His protective instincts rose to the surface in a rush, and electricity tingled down his spine.
It was good enough reason to head down and kick his ass…
His wings cut cleanly through the air in powerful, broad strokes as the ground rushed up at him. Jean’s face was wreathed in confusion as he veered straight for Logan.
“What the flamin’…WHOULFFFF!” Broad, wiry shoulders plowed into Logan’s mid-section, nearly clotheslining him, but Warren scarcely lost momentum as he dragged and lifted him from the ground.
“Warren!” Jean’s eyes went round with shock. He felt her words in his mind. What on earth are you doing??
“Stay out of this, Jeannie!” he cried aloud before barking at his reluctant passenger. “Don’t touch her!”
“Are ya friggin’ nuts? I didn’t lay a finger on her, flyboy!”
“I don’t believe you. And I damn well don’t trust a guy calling himself Wolverine, when we don’t know that much about you.” His flight was intentionally jerky. Above him, Logan grunted within his surprisingly strong grip. He had to choose his moment.
“All ya hafta know was that I helped save yer scrawny, feathered ass from bein’ that fuckin’ island’s first course. Ya wanna let go.” Warren’s reply was to dip and weave, spiraling toward the ground before he could get his bearings. “FUCK!”
“Goddess,” Ororo muttered, not liking the direction the scene before her was taking.
We need to stop them before someone gets hurt. Jean’s thoughts were frantic.
“You mean before Warren gets hurt,” Ororo corrected her, and her winds picked up, launching her after them, careening faster than the high-flying Angel on his best day.
Logan beat her to the punch, wrenching himself within his grip and sharply kneeing him. His fingers laced themselves together into one meaty fist and came down between Warren’s shoulder blades. Warren lost his equilibrium as Logan knocked the wind out of him. Warren wouldn’t be denied his chance, and he plummeted again to the solid earth, planning to use Logan as a shovel. Logan had other ideas. His wings were lowered mid-flap when Logan curled himself around his body and kneed him again, this time clutching his waist and using the momentum to flip him over his head.
His landing wasn’t pretty and didn’t tickle, but at least Logan was free. He was already healing from a wicked case of rug burn as he plowed through the hard soil and brush. Warren was already back up on his feet, but his ego had suffered the blow.
“Try that stunt now,” Logan snarled. SNIKT. His claws gleamed in the moonlight, razor-sharp and deadly, and he wore the face of a provoked beast.
“Fine with me, hairball!”
This doesn’t look good… “Logan, DON’T” Jean shrieked.
“Ya wanna let go!” Warren wasted no time rushing him again, this time using his wings to propel them toward a towering oak tree. Logan’s ears were ringing, but he was just getting his second wind. Before Warren could fly past him, he caught him by the ankle and heard his surprised intake of breath before he swung him around like a discus. He landed into a neighboring tree with a satisfying splat.
“I’m gonna pluck ya like a Christmas turkey, asshole!”
“BOYS! ENOUGH!” Before they could scramble toward each other, a loud clap of thunder rocked the woods, and the trees swayed with the sudden, relentless showers. Large, freezing rain drops peppered them so sharply that they stung.
Lightning crackled from Ororo’s eyes as she descended like an avenging angel, landing between the two of them and placing herself with her back to Warren. Slender hands landed on Logan’s chest, and she stared him down fearlessly. Her eyes dared him to defy her. He stared at her hands, impressed by the strength in them, and his skin felt beneath her touch. Her face didn’t waver, despite the rugged handsomeness of his face, his square jaw tilted at a stubborn…delicious angle. She shook it off.
A muscle in his jaw worked before he stated “He started it. Asshole,” he tossed over her shoulder. Warren’s wings unfurled themselves threateningly; Ororo knew they were strong enough to break a grown man’s arm. She didn’t want him to try that with Logan’s unbreakable bones.
“Leave Jean alone,” Warren shot back. “Don’t think for one second that you’re going to take advantage of her when she’s out here alone! She’s with Scott. He’s my friend, and you aren’t gonna come between them!” It didn’t matter to Warren that Jean being outside alone was her own doing.
“Some friend,” Logan grated, and his claws were still extended. He advanced toward him, but was shoved back by Ororo’s insistent grip.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” she snapped, and she emphasized her point by summoning a bolt of lightning that arced down to the ground, searing the earth mere inches away from the three of them. “I said enough, and I meant it.” She peered down at his claws, her expression livid. “Put those away, Logan. We’re all adults here.” Those eyes were a brilliant, glowing white. She was still beautiful, but not a woman he wanted to cross.
“Like hell. He’s an animal, look at him,” Warren sneered. He wasn’t expecting Ororo to abandon her quarrel with Logan and spin on him, her anger still uncooled.
“You have wings, Warren. He has claws. You can’t call him an animal.” Warren was chastened.
Logan and Jean were impressed.
“This is a big house,” Ororo continued, “but there are more of us living in it now, for however long that any of us stay, and that means we have to get along.”
“He was messing with Jean!”
“I can take care of myself,” Jean informed him, stepping forward and reaching out to him to pry him away. Her hand was gentle on his shoulder, and he stared down into her face. Her hair was plastered against her face, soaking wet and appearing almost blood red. She blinked raindrops from her eyes. “I know you mean well, Warren.”
“I do. Remember that, Jean. And leave this punk alone. He only wants one thing, you know what that is, and Scott wouldn’t like it. Think about that.” He turned on his heel and took off into the night. Ororo sighed, and the glow in her eyes died down, her thunder fading to low rumbles. The dark clouds rolled away, revealing the moon and stars glittering in the sky.
“Scott has nothing to worry about,” she muttered. She faced Ororo. “Thank you.”
“Warren had a point.” She crossed her arms, then peered down at her dress, now soaked and ruined.
“And ya didn’t really have anything ta worry about,” Logan added, using his palm to scrape his saturated hair back from his face, shaking off droplets. His scowling, bushy eyebrows gleamed, and he looked like he had his fill. Unwittingly, Ororo imitated the gesture with her flowing white locks, which now hung down past her breasts. Logan didn’t hide his interest.
“You could've fooled us,” Ororo answered for her best friend. “Jean, go inside.”
“Are you coming with me?” Her face and posture were concerned and nervous. I hope you know what you’re doing, she projected.
“No. I’d like to talk to Logan for a moment. I’ll be along shortly.” Logan eyes didn’t follow the redhead down the forest path.
“Thought ya would’ve said all ya had to earlier.”
“You thought wrong.” Her hands lowered themselves to her hips, and the haughtiness he was growing used to was at its full wattage. “From the moment you set foot in that house, Scott made it clear that he was going back to that island to rescue the woman he loved. His fiancée. You heard him as well as I did.”
“Maybe even better than that,” he scoffed, shrugging. He didn’t elaborate on his enhanced hearing.
“So what was that about?”
“She’s an attractive woman. I ain’t blind.” Again, he restrained himself from bragging about his enhanced vision. She didn’t look like she was in the mood.
She did, however, look good enough to eat. She was still dripping wet, and her dress was plastered to her body, nearly transparent, and outlined a tempting body, more sensuously rounded than Jean’s. The dress was beautiful, or at least it had been when he spied her floating overhead. The halter neckline plunged just past “modest” and just shy of “Holy Mother of God!” and bared dainty shoulders and toned arms. The azure blue satin matched her eyes, and the hem was just short enough to show an enticing glimpse of thigh.
He longed to peel it from her body and lick her dry. It blazed from his eyes, and she swallowed roughly. She wasn’t finished.
“No, but you damn well know better, Logan.”
“Again, darlin’, it ain’t something I can just ignore. She was givin’ off a scent that I can’t mistake for somethin’ else. She was excited and wanted the attention.” She mulled that; Jean’s thoughts made her the culprit from their connection in her loft.
“Then don’t make this mistake. She’s with Scott. Regardless of what impression you had from Jean, he loves her very deeply. You saw him that day. You heard him and you could tell as easily that I was how painful it was for him to leave her behind, and then to see her suffer that way. She’s his life.” She inhaled a fortifying breath, and he saw something resembling hurt in her eyes. “Very few people have loved that hard. But maybe you wouldn’t know.”
Ouch.
“Have ya said yer piece, woman?”
“For the moment.”
“Good. ‘Cause I’m done listening, ‘Ro.” He stared down at his rumpled, dripping clothes. “And I could use dryin’ off.”
“Don’t let me interrupt your walk.”
“Ya already did,” he tossed back as he stomped off.
He entered the house through the kitchen, and he was greeted by Moira’s squawk of indignant outrage.
“So help me, lad, I just mopped the bleedin’ floor! Ye look as if ye tumbled into the pool out front with every stitch on! What were ye thinking?” She shooed him with her dishtowel. “Take off those shoes, I dinna want mud on Charley’s nice hardwood floors.” Beside her, Sean watched in amusement twinkling in his eyes. The thought occurred to Logan that he hadn’t seen him since dinner, either, and he cleared his throat as he stared him down. Logan smirked before Moira swatted him with the towel again.
“OUT!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, carrying his shoes in his hand toward the stairs.
“So help me,” Moira muttered. “God in heaven…”
“Tisn’t a sight y’see every day, lass,” Sean remarked. He didn’t want to be in Logan’s sodden shoes. She treated him to a look of disgust that made her green eyes flash.
“We got any more of that roast?” John inquired, ducking through the doorway; he was nearly as tall as Piotr.
“Fine. Just dinna make a mess o’ me kitchen, lad,” Moira warned, but she fetched him a plate from the cupboard as he raided the refrigerator. The kitchen door swung open and clapped itself shut as lighter footsteps clicked across the floor.
Ororo was a bedraggled mess. Sean and John both sucked in their breath as she combed her fingers through her sodden hair.
“Och!”
“Gads, ye’ve all gone daft,” Sean chuckled. Ororo scowled.
“What happened?” John held the mayonnaise mid-air, staring at her. She tried to school her face into calm lines but failed.
“Don’t ask.” Her sandals clicked down the hall toward her loft.
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