Cassandra pulled on fresh pajamas after her shower and went to check that things hadn’t taken a sudden turn for the worse out front.
It wasn’t pretty outside, but it was definitely better, and she retreated to her bedroom and pulled the covers all the way up to her ears. The bed had been kept warm by her electric blanket and she wiggled her toes against the toasty sheets and contemplated how she would make things right with Samael.
Because she needed to. Big-time.
Not only for the way she’d snapped at him tonight, either.
From the moment she’d met him she’d been rude. Shutting the door in his face not once but twice, then getting defensive with him over Mr. Smith when she should have been thanking him for repairing the fence. She had excuses for some of it—her nausea, Gordon’s much-ant
