Wendy stops and, looking at me over her bare shoulder, she says, “Sure. A wonderful meal will be waiting for you when you get downstairs, sir.”
She curtsies.
“I don’t know if I should be worried or flattered.”
Wendy waves at me. “See you soon.” And she’s gone.
I get into the bathroom and turn on the tap, hoping Wendy and Danny haven’t run through all the hot water. Scratch that, a cold shower is probably what I need after finding Wendy half-n***d in my bedroom.
I end up in the middle, with a short, lukewarm shower.
I quickly get dressed and walk downstairs to find the living room smelling surprisingly good. The oven is lit, and the table is laid in a fancier-than-usual fashion.
Danny is already seated at it.
“Mmm,” I say. “What’s on the menu?”
Wendy, her hair up in a bubble bun,
