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)
He looks rather disgruntled. "That's it? The much-lauded kiss?"
"For public, yes. Private kisses are a very different sort."
Zhur considers this and then leans in once more. "All of the kisses I shall give you will not be for public consumption."
My face gets scorchingly hot. He's far too good at this whole “pretend husband” thing. "I'm going to head for the tailor. Wait for me by Simone's stall, will you? Eat a couple buns if you need to." With a pat to his arm, I skitter away down the street, blushing like an absolute ninny. The sex is supposed to be about scratching an itch, and here I'm acting like a bride on her honeymoon.
Which is fine for our story, but my head sure is confused.
I step into the boarding house near the end of the street. The construction workers live in a complex near the spaceport but with the constant stream of humans coming in, there's always someone living in the boarding house. There's a woman that lives here that does laundry, and another that tailors clothing, since nothing we get seems to be human-sized.
I head upstairs to Daphne's room and knock on the door. It's been a few months since I've used her services, and I tried to come by a few other times only to find she was too busy to chitchat. I felt like I was bothering her (and I probably was).
"Come in?"
As usual, Daphne has a ton of clothes piled up in her room. She sits in front of a desk that has a strange-looking sewing machine in front of it, and the thing is humming along quietly as she places fabric in front of the needle. I step inside and smile at her. "How are you, Daph? Business looks brisk."
She sighs and shakes her head, putting aside her project to look over at me. "Things get busier every time I turn around. Have you heard the latest?"
I sit in a chair near her sewing machine. It's not like Daphne to gossip, which means she must be bursting with this information. "No. What's the latest?"
"Lady va'Rin brought me a bunch of dresses. Not just for her but for her staff. Apparently some space prince is getting married and they're showing up to the wedding."
A space royal wedding. Weird. "One of the blue guys, then?"
She shakes her head. "I think this is one of the cat ones. What are they called? Braxians?"
"Praxiians," I correct absently, and wonder if Zhur knows who's getting married. "Speaking of, do you think you'll have time to do some quick mending for me? I swear it won't take long..."
CHAPTER
SIXTY-SIX
ZHUR
The human female Simone makes a disgruntled sound the moment I head over to her stand. "Not you again."
"Me again," I reply, deciding not to let her tone bother me. I am, after all, Maeve's new husband and this is Maeve's close friend. She will have to learn to tolerate me, and I will have to endure her. "You should work on your customer greetings. 'Not you again' does not inspire me to purchase."
"Oh please." She rolls her eyes and uses tongs to nudge a few sad-looking buns to the front of a tray. "Don't even try. We both know you aren't coming here because of customer service. Where's Maeve?"
I clasp my hands behind my back and eye the offerings she has. Perhaps I am biased due to my life back on Praxii Minor but her wares do not look very appetizing. I point at one particularly flat and lumpy-looking bun. "Maeve is visiting the tailor and will meet us here. What is that supposed to be?"
"It's a cookie. And if Maeve doesn't show up here smiling and happy I'm going to carve you open with a butter knife."
As if I know what a butter knife is. "I assure you that Maeve is in an exceedingly pleasant mood."
"We'll see."
Simone does not trust me. From her perspective, I suppose I understand it. I was to be a pet, and suddenly Maeve has a husband and swears it was the plan all along. I shall have to buy Maeve a pet when I leave so she's not lonely. She will need something to talk to, because the people here do not fulfill her desire for companionship. I frown at the thought. I don't like the thought of leaving Maeve behind, but she cannot come with me.
We will simply have to have our fill of each other while I am here. So I point at the ugly baked goods. "Tell me which ones are Maeve's favorites."
Simone makes a reluctant grunt of acknowledgment. "She likes things with jam in them. And you don't have to worry about Maeve—I always put aside an order for her." The human pulls out a small box and holds it toward me. "Thirteen credits, please."