“I hope you fall off the treadmill and die.”
He held back a laugh and they pulled into the gym car park. “A lingering aftertaste of stale air conditioning with a high note of body odour.”
“I hope the elliptical smacks you in the head and gives you brain damage.”
Taylor was a locked safe in matters of the heart and he didn’t have the combination, none of them did. He could feel another sneeze building and shook his head to hold it off. “Best enjoyed by those who like their perfume to stimulate barfing.”
Taylor shut the engine off. “Why do I do the things I do for you?”
He sneezed. “Ow.” He turned to face her. “Ou mad me bi my tun.”
She threw her arms around his neck. “You big baby.”
He hugged her skinny body close, dragging her half into his seat to do it. “Thath’s my livethihood you’re dithing there.” His nose twitched and he sneezed again. “Geeth, Tay.”
She pulled his hair and pushed her face into his neck and he tried not to breathe her too deep.
“You going to tell me what the eau de lawn is all about?” Her no was the rub of her cheek against his collarbone. “Do I need to beat the bastard up for you?” He stroked a hand down her back.
She pulled away. “Yes. Beat him to a pulp. That’ll make me feel
better.”
He nodded. “You point him out and his flesh is mine to bruise.”
She opened the door. “I still hope you come a cropper in there. Cut grass. It’s bloody Yves Saint Whosit and it cost more than a week’s rent.”
He got out his side and she’d already come around the car to meet him. “Why didn’t you ask me to get you something duty free?”
She snuggled into his side and he felt her shrug. “You’ve got enough to worry about without buying me perfume.”
“You only have to email what you want. Easy as.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He stopped and she was forced to prop with him or let go his arm. “I’m serious. God, girl, the things you do for me. You filled the fridge with stuff, the freezer too.”
“Pasta, there’s nachos and that burnt fig, honeycomb and caramel ice-cream you like. I used the money you left me.”
“It’s not about the money. It’s embarrassing what I got paid for recording the game alone and you won’t let me buy you anything.”
She let go his arm. “I don’t want you or anyone buying me things. I can buy my own things, and if I can’t afford them, then I’ll wait till I can.” Her vowels weren’t round, but they were distinctly pissed.
It was going around. “That ticks me off, you know that.”
“Yeah, well, live with it, Vox.”
He growled, his Captain Vox signature growl—sardonic menace with a squeeze of humour. “Does the dickhead who stood you up come to the gym?”
“Why?”
“Cause you really have put me in the mood to take him down.”
She put the back of her hand to the back of his and he took her arm. “Big talker, Damo.”
He laughed and put a hand to her shoulder. “They don’t call me The Voice for nothing.” But the laugh was forced because Taylor’s insistence on doing everything the hard way made him grind his teeth.
She groaned. “You’re so full of yourself.”