Rocked by Love (Gargoyles, #4)(40)
Even with the delay, the crew managed to finish the installation in one day, if you didn’t bother to note that it was full dark by the time they cleaned up behind themselves, loaded up their van, and drove off into the night. Whatever the bill turned out to be, Kylie figured she still wouldn’t be paying them enough.
Did they have a bonus clause in case of attack by evil Demon-worshipping magic users? If not, they might want to look into that.
Dag’s first reaction to having the house empty again had been to prowl through every inch of it—from attic to basement and everywhere in between—checking the locks on each point of entry, be it window, door, or (probably) magical portal. Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if he reacted to finding a mouse hole by demanding the rodent inside provide proof of identity and swear an oath that it was not now, nor had it ever been, a member of the nocturni party.
Kylie left him to it and took a few hours to play with the new toy, experimenting with camera feeds, security settings, and alarm tones before finally calling it a night. Another attack meant another early bedtime. At this rate, someone was going to take away her membership card to the UberGeek Society of Night Owls.
Of course, she wound up waking early, and by eleven found herself shuttling boxes out of the second guest room and into the smallest of the four. It was bad enough making an unwanted visitor sleep surrounded by the detritus of her long-ago move, somehow she couldn’t live with making people she had technically invited—and one of whom she actually liked—do the same.
Dag found her there, shoving a stack of boxes into a corner where it would be out of the way until she felt like dealing with it. Which at this rate, should be right after her retirement.
“What are you doing?” the Guardian asked. “You are normally asleep at this time, or in your office working.”
“Early to bed, early to rise.” She shrugged. “I’m clearing the boxes and stuff out of Wynn and Knox’s room so they don’t feel too crowded. Once I set up the mattress in there, it started to feel pretty cramped.”
That was the truth. Luckily, she’d had the forethought to order a bed for the couple as soon as they confirmed they would be visiting. It had been delivered the other day, before the security-installation debacle. At the time, she’d been preoccupied with combing through Dennis Ott’s thumb drive with a fine-tooth comb, so she’d had them lean the mattress and box spring up the against the wall and hurried them outside just to silence Dag’s grumbling. It had mostly worked, but it meant she had to deal with setting it all up today, since Wynn and Knox would arrive later in the afternoon.
Just so Dag didn’t think she was a complete jerk, though, she added, “I’ve already removed the rest of the stuff from your room. Sorry. I should have done that sooner.”
He shrugged. “It was only four boxes. They took up little space. How long will it be before the others arrive?”
“Their plane lands at two-twenty. I’m having a car service meet them at Logan, so by the time they get their stuff and drive out here, it should be about three-thirty. Which means I need to finish moving boxes and getting everything set up for them.”
“I will help,” Dag proclaimed, and turned to stride down the hall to the back bedroom. His own occupied the front of the house, but this one overlooked the small rear patio area.
Sighing, Kylie dusted off her hands and followed. When she stepped inside, she nearly ran over the large Guardian who had come to an abrupt stop just inside the door.
“What is that?” he demanded, pointing a finger to the middle of the room.
Kylie followed his gesture to the bed and frowned. “Um, it’s a bed.”
“Why is it so large?”
“Because there will be two people sleeping in it. Duh. I figured if Knox was even close to your size, they’d need the room to be comfortable. So I ordered a king size.”
“Yet you left me with a tiny piece of furniture clearly inadequate for my frame. Was this some plan to cause me physical distress as a form of revenge?”
Finally understanding his attitude, Kylie rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself. You got the bed I had, plain and simple. A queen size is perfectly adequate for one person, even an escapee from steroid camp like you. I have the same size in my room upstairs.”
“Adequate for some. You are less than half my size, little human. You could be comfortable on a chair cushion. I require more space than that.” Without another word, the Guardian stepped forward, turned around, and flung himself backward onto the bare mattress. Stretching out his arms and legs, he easily occupied the whole space with a smug smile. “There. You see?”
Kylie just stared, wondering if maybe she’d been wrong about the possibility of a concussion after all. Or maybe she needed to revisit her original theory about the entirety of the last week being the product of a coma, hospital-grade drugs, and a vivid imagination. The only other choice appeared to be acknowledging that the Duke of Dour was actually smiling at her.
And being playful.
Her psyche couldn’t cope. It went completely fartshadikt. She may as well have been oxygen deprived all over again.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she took a cautious step forward and frowned down at him. “I’m not buying you a bigger bed. We don’t even know how long you’ll be here.”
Something sparked in his black eyes, but he just kept smiling and ran a hand across the smooth fabric of the mattress. “But you bought Wynn and Knox a new bed.”