“Let’s head back to Remy’s.” Rowan started toward Remy’s vehicle, a dark green Jeep. She’d had enough of this night. Adjusting her skirt as she walked, the guys trailed behind her, following her steps.
“Um, guys?” They all looked back to see Sam staring at the dead bodies on the ground. He gestured with his thumb. “What do we do with them?”
Rowan shrugged. “Leave them for all I care.” One had wanted to sleep with her and the other to kill her. She continued walking then stopped again, glancing at Remy.
“Remy. Grab my bag, will you?” She’d left it next to the dead bodies.
He rolled his eyes, gesturing to Sam. “Do you not see him standing right there?” He didn’t wait for her answer and went back anyway, toward Sam. Reaching for the bag, he attempted to pick it up but dropped it suddenly. He looked up in surprise. “What the hell do you have in here, woman?”
“God, Remy. You’re so lazy.” Sam laughed at Rowan’s comment as she walked over and picked up the bag herself. She swung it over her shoulder effortlessly. Then looking at Remy in mock fright, she took a sudden step back.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, opening her eyes in shock. She pointed at Remy’s head. “I think I see a gray hair.”
“Really?” He brought a hand to his hair, searching frantically. “Where?”
The lapsus all had a thing about aging and Remy was no different.
Rowan shook her head in disgust, bringing her hand down to her side. “You’re so weak you can’t even lift my bag without complaining. I just thought you must be aging quicker than usual and losing some of that muscle mass. What are you now, twenty-five, old man?” She paused, giving a look of disappointment.
“God, it must suck to be you.”
She strolled away, laughing loudly, leaving Remy to simmer by himself. “I’m only twenty-three,” he muttered. Eyes narrowed, a thought suddenly came to mind and a grin slowly grew on this face as he watched her retreating back.
Game on, babe.