In the House of Spite Ch. 06

"I ... what happened?"

He rubbed the back of her head with his fingertips. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were passed out until I was done."

"Oh, okay. Can I have some fresh air?"

"I'll open a window."

He left her for a moment to pull up some blinds and scrape a window up. Then he put one of his bathrobes on her and walked her over to that open window. Nearly drowning in soft cotton, Pearl stuck her head out the window and focused on breathing through her nose.

The cold world was so harsh, but the morning light was energizing. When she finally went back to the bed, as Darren closed the window, she said in a weak but content tone, "I'm fine. I feel fine." Sore in the best way, but fine.

Darren took a spot next to her. The mattress dipped and creaked much more from his weight than hers. With an arm around her waist, pressing her close, he said, "I'm sorry for firing you, but I was hoping we'd play house."

The robe's long sleeves covered her hands. She had to tug one down to properly rub her eye. "You want me here?"

"Yep." His fingers drummed on her. "It'll be a good way to see if we can stand each other. Testing the waters. I'll be like a pretend husband, and you'll be a pretend wife. We'll take care of each other, at least until we decide we don't want to be together."

He slid his hand up and then ruffled her messy hair. That made her smile. He explained a few more things. "I'll make the money, walk the dogs, mow the lawn, old-fashioned husband stuff. You'll do what you did as the housekeeper, basically. Cook, clean, feed the dogs, stuff like that. But keep your summer job. That's probably good for you."

"Old-fashioned wife stuff," Pearl muttered, "no, house-wife stuff. That's not bad."

"You'll still get money," he said as he playfully flicked her ear, making her giggle. "Two stacks a week. One for groceries and other stuff we need. Another stack for pocket money. It's not right to have someone work in your house and not get a little money."

Shrugging in the robe, Pearl asked, "What's the catch?"

He chuckled. "Honey, you know what the catch is. Housework is work. You know it's work. That's the catch. Do your part and I'll do mine." He took her hand and weaved his long fingers with her tiny ones. "And since we'd be a couple, we'd have a date every once in a while."

"Well that sounds nice," she admitted.

"And there will be lots of fucking."

Pearl's laugh sounded like a combination of a goose's honk and a goat's bleat. "I was waiting for that!"

"So, what do you think?" Darren's rough thumb caressed her hand's softer skin. "We'll go to your place and pack your stuff. I'll say hi to your parents and then I'll put you in my truck. Oh, by the way, you can drive my old truck whenever you need to." He bent down to rub his nose in her scalp. His breath tickled. "We'll even stop in town to have a first date."

"If we do this, my parents might be really surprised."

Another throaty laugh. "Ha!! Oh Honey, our parents made bets over how long it would take you to get into my house!"

Her jaw fell as she gaped up at him.

What a shit-eating grin he had! "Mama's been getting onto me about it." He started imitating her voice. "'When you are going to get that White girl in your house? You know she'll take care of you, so hurry up!'"

Nearly biting her tongue, Pearl asked, "Who won the bet?"

His chest puffing out a little, Darren proudly gave the answer. "Your father."

***