The Big Play by Jennifer Seasons

Author:Jennifer Seasons [Seasons, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: E'Claire Books

9

Cal looked over Roz’s shoulder at his condo and froze. “What the hell?”

“Tu casa es mi casa. At least for now. So I thought I’d make myself comfortable. It’s great isn’t it?”

Roz had done more than get comfortable.

She’d taken over.

It was like a rainbow had thrown up in his condo. Where once his décor had been subtle and masculine, it was now an artsy hippie haven. What looked like hand knit blankets were draped over every furniture back in the living room—all in various colors and patterns. He counted at least six. There were pillows scattered high and low too, including the floor. A giant round thing made of various jewel-toned velvet stripes took up one entire corner near the balcony, and paintings with colors so vivid he had to squint to look at them hung side-by-side with his sleek and polished black and whites.

Nothing matched.

And the art stuff everywhere? Ay bendito. It felt like a chick’s place. Not his bachelor condo.

Cal raked a hand through his hair, making strands of it stand on end. His eyes landed on something peeking out from behind his leather recliner. Dios, was that a pair of bunny slippers over there by his reading chair? Come on, really? For fuck’s sake. Bunny slippers?

Marriage sure cut the balls right off a guy. But in his case he didn’t have any right to complain. Like less than none.

If he didn’t find any evidence to dispute Agent Connemara’s findings then he really was in the country illegally. Had been his whole life. Which, if that was the case meant that his only chance of keeping his current life intact was his hasty wedding to a woman who had polluted his manly condo with bunny slippers.

It was a hell of a situation.

Sucking in a calming breath, Cal counted to ten and waited for his beer back. What a damn day it had been. The only up side that he could see at the moment was that Roz wasn’t wearing a shirt. She’d lost that who knows when during her obviously recent painting session and had stripped down to a sports bra. Some of the paint she’d collected on her still looked wet and shiny.

“Do you always paint in those things?” he asked, gesturing to her tatty denim overalls and trying really hard not to be distracted by the fact that she had a smear of bright orange across her left breast. It was such an interesting shade though. One he wanted to inspect more closely.

There was a lot about Roz he wanted to inspect more of, truthfully.

“They’re my creative pants.”

“How so?” He felt his lips twitch at the corners. The woman was full of surprises.

Roz stepped back and gestured down her body, all the way down to the rolled cuffs and paint-splotched feet. “They put me in the zone. Every time I wear them I get a burst of creative energy. Hence, I call them my creative pants.”

Who was Cal to argue with that logic?

“You’re messy.” He stated after a full body survey revealed paint on every surface of her, including her hair.

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