Page 16 of Cruel King
“You’re not a fan of implants?” he asks, like they’re something I should be a cheerleader for.
I don’t have to think about that question for even a second. “No, I’m not. I think people are fine just as they are.”
Folding his arms across his chest, he asks, “So you don’t think people should try to improve themselves with exercise or anything like that?”
It’s clear where he’s going with this. I’ve been playing sports all my life, except for this past year I took off between high school and college. I’m sure he’s seen me leave my house dressed in my uniform in the past few years.
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying nobody gets a butt like this from working out. It’s not normal. You know, Coach told us that if we start to do stuff like this to our bodies that we better be prepared to keep up the maintenance for the rest of our lives. If Blondie here doesn’t do that, she should expect some serious droopage to happen by the time she’s in her forties.”
For a few moments, he doesn’t say anything but simply nods his head. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
I toss the magazine onto the bed and sit back against the pillows. “You’re not taking this seriously, I guess.”
With a faux look of surprise, he says, “Oh, but I am. Droopage. Forties. Sounds pretty bad. I suspect she’ll have to go in for a tune up before then, though.”
“Whatever. All I’m saying is normal people don’t look like this. Then again, since these magazines have a particular purpose, you aren’t exactly looking for a normal woman.”
Matthias stands and walks over toward where I’m lying on his bed. Looking down at me, he smiles and shakes his head. “I’m not sure what to say to that. Let’s just say that if I didn’t have those to look at, I’d focus on someone real and close by.”
I open my mouth, but not a word comes out. Did he mean if he was playing with himself that he’d be thinking about me? The choices are very few on this estate. The only females here on a regular basis are Eleanor and me, and I’m not thinking he’s fantasizing about the housekeeper.
All I can do is look up at him in shock as the realization that he meant me fills my head. Those dark eyes of his stare down at me with an intensity I’ve never noticed in them before, and then he walks away, leaving me wondering what’s going on.
As his bedroom door closes, I’m left with one thought I don’t understand.
Matthias King fantasizes about me?
CHAPTEREIGHT
Matthias
I slip on my coat,hat, and gloves and walk outside after nearly confessing to Ava that I’ve been thinking about her and not those airbrushed models in Playboy for years. I need to get away from her before I make a mistake I know I shouldn’t.
It’s just that she looks so good lying there in that white robe on my bed that if I didn’t walk out at that moment, I would have kissed her. And I wouldn’t have wanted to stop at kissing either.
Jesus Christ, I need to forget even thinking that. I know better. Ava Sutton is not someone I can have. She’s not even someone I should think about having.
The wind has died down from before, so at least I can see ten feet in front of me. I scan the area around the back door and judge that there has to be at least a foot to a foot and a half of snow on the ground already, and it’s still coming down.
The head groundskeeper, a man named Jonesy who’s worked for my father since before I was born, stands with a shovel in his hand at the end of the sidewalk leading to the road that winds around the estate. Looking around like he can’t imagine how he’s going to get rid of all of this snow, he turns his head left and right and then sighs in premature defeat.
Taking a step out from under the alcove near the back door, I wave at him. “Hey, want some help?”
He lifts his head to focus on me and pushes his red and blue New York Giants hat up his forehead. “Matthias?”
The tone of his voice tells me he doesn’t understand the offer. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve never once shoveled snow here. Also, the few times I’ve spoken to Jonesy have been surface conversations at best about things like the weather and if I should move my car when he’s cutting the grass.
I walk toward him and nod as I stop a few feet away. “Yeah, it’s me. Just thought I’d come out and see if you could use some help.”
He slowly nods, almost as if he still can’t believe I’m standing out here with him. “Sure.”
The King estate head groundskeeper has to be almost as old as my father, but the difference between them is Jonesy’s weathered face tells anyone who looks at him that he’s tough enough to handle winters like we get here. Not that my father couldn’t, I guess, but he’s got enough money that he barely has to deal with the weather at any time of the year.
Jonesy pushes his shovel toward me as he explains, “I’ve got another one in the shed. I’ll get it and we can get rid of this snow in no time.”
I grab the handle as the reality that I’ve never shoveled snow in my life occurs to me. Maybe I’m more like my father than I like to think.
With a smile that pushes up his ruddy cheeks until they meet his eyes, the groundskeeper points toward the shed. “I’ll be right back. If you want, you can wait until I get my shovel.”