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- Э. Л. Джеймс
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“
Sounds
great
.
”
“
I
don
’
t
know
where
you
keep
your
placemats
.
”
I
shrug
,
trying
desperately
hard
not
to
look
flustered
.
“
I
’
ll
do
that
.
You
cook
.
Would
you
like
me
to
put
some
music
on
so
you
can
continue
your
…
er
…
dancing
?
”
I
stare
down
at
my
fingers
,
knowing
that
I
am
turning
puce
.
“
Please
,
don
’
t
stop
on
my
account
.
It
’
s
very
entertaining
.
”
His
tone
is
one
of
wry
amusement
.
I
purse
my
lips
.
Entertaining
,
eh
?
My
subconscious
has
doubled
over
in
laughter
at
me
.
I
turn
and
continue
to
whisk
the
eggs
,
probably
beating
them
a
little
harder
than
necessary
.
In
a
moment
,
he
’
s
beside
me
.
He
gently
pulls
my
pigtail
.
“
I
love
these
,
”
he
whispers
.
“
They
won
’
t
protect
you
.
”
Hmm
,
Bluebeard
…
“
How
would
you
like
your
eggs
?
”
I
ask
tartly
.
He
smiles
.
“
Thoroughly
whisked
and
beaten
.
”
He
smirks
.
I
turn
back
to
the
task
at
hand
,
trying
to
hide
my
smile
.
He
’
s
hard
to
stay
mad
at
.
Especially
when
he
’
s
being
so
uncharacteristically
playful
.
He
opens
a
drawer
and
takes
out
two
slate
black
placemats
for
the
breakfast
bar
.
I
pour
the
egg
mix
into
a
pan
,
pull
out
the
bacon
,
turn
it
over
,
and
put
it
back
under
the
grill
.
