Danger in the Room
Day One, 5th Hour, 38th Minute
Rogue passed through the boy’s dorm on her way to the Danger Room—if “passed” isn’t too polite of a word for her stormy progress. She startled quite a few of the high-school age boys, having caught a few without shirts on, and worked up quite a temper and a small audience by the time she banged on the Cajun’s door.
Remy opened it, looking the part of perfect gentleman. “Oui, ma chère? How may I be of assistance?”
She narrowed her eyes at his easy nonchalance and slid her hands to her hips. “I’ll be done with Logan in an hour. When I get back, there better be a very good Cajun breakfast waiting for me.”
“A pleasure to serve, chère,” he replied smoothly with a bow.
She had forgotten just how charming he could be when he wanted to, but with her current mood was rather unimpressed.
“Or weren’t?” she asked dangerously.
Remy sighed and ran a hand through tousled auburn hair. “And have you decided the punishment?”
“It involves torture.” She sized him up once again and decided his gift for defusing tense situations was just that and not an indicator of how he felt about them. “One hour,” she warned. “And shave?”
Some of the boys behind her gave a snicker, but she ignored them, instead continuing her royal progress and heading for the Danger Room. Rogue decided that Logan would be feeling it today.
Day One, 6th Hour, 43rd Minute
Bell pepper, onion, celery, cayenne, bay leaf…
Rogue sniffed appreciatively as she entered the kitchen and settled in a chair to watch the Cajun cook.
He was a master, and he moved with an easy grace in the kitchen. Some would look at his creations and find them a little plain and brown, but it was the real authentic deal and tasted heavenly to Rogue’s south-deprived taste buds.
For the last thirteen months since Remy had arrived at the mansion, looking for Storm and catching the bad end of a bet she had won from him, Rogue had most appreciated his southernness. Of course, he had to ruin that by immediately hitting on her, then every other available girl in the mansion, before unwisely winning away her dignity in poker. Then of course, like most men, he didn’t even realize she was fuming about it until she won away his last night.
She smirked again remembering.
“Morning, chère.” He didn’t even glance her way, just slid her a very full plate and handed her a glass.
“Merci.” She could be a little polite when it suited her.
This time he did look up. Smoldering red on black eyes a girl could drown in met hers. The man was handsome. And charming. And interested in anything female with legs on that didn’t have a man already. Well, Emma and Logan kept him from acting on interest in a girl that had a guy already.
“So what’s the punishment?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter. His devil-may-care attitude was yet another reason she’d loved beating him at cards. “Chinese water?”
“No.” Rogue set down her glass. “American shopping.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly, and she frowned. She hadn’t even noticed he’d been tense.
“I happen to be a very good judge of female attire,” he said with his usual charm.
“I know.” She smiled sweetly. “And Jubilee, Kitty, Emma, and I will want your opinion on everything.”
Remy blanched. “Firecracker?”
Rogue turned her voice saccharine sweet. “You know Jubilee will just be delighted to have a man that is a very good judge of female attire to help us out and carry the bags.”
“Merde!”
“No cussing in the kitchen, Gumbo.” Logan came in, claws out, looking like he just came out of a particularly rough Danger Room session, and pulled down a mug to get coffee. “A kid comes in here, and you’d be hearing it everywhere.”
“You cuss too!” Remy objected.
“Don’t bother Logan,” Rogue tossed off and dug into breakfast, effectively silencing the conversation.
Remy’s red eyes glowed hypnotically as he stared at her. He was miffed. She caught it in the line of his body. He wasn’t used to being ordered around like that. Or maybe he just didn’t like it.
“We leave right after school’s out,” she informed him a few minutes later. She handed him her empty plate.
Logan watched with interest.
“Careful, homme,” Remy threw at him. “Next time, she might get you.”
“Nah.” The Wolverine downed the dregs of his coffee. He grinned wolfishly. “I taught her how to play. I’ll never bet the house on her.”
Remy’s jaw dropped. “You taught the femme?”
Logan and Rogue both laughed as they joined each other on their way out, leaving Remy with the dishes.
Rogue passed through the boy’s dorm on her way to the Danger Room—if “passed” isn’t too polite of a word for her stormy progress. She startled quite a few of the high-school age boys, having caught a few without shirts on, and worked up quite a temper and a small audience by the time she banged on the Cajun’s door.
Remy opened it, looking the part of perfect gentleman. “Oui, ma chère? How may I be of assistance?”
She narrowed her eyes at his easy nonchalance and slid her hands to her hips. “I’ll be done with Logan in an hour. When I get back, there better be a very good Cajun breakfast waiting for me.”
“A pleasure to serve, chère,” he replied smoothly with a bow.
She had forgotten just how charming he could be when he wanted to, but with her current mood was rather unimpressed.
“Or weren’t?” she asked dangerously.
Remy sighed and ran a hand through tousled auburn hair. “And have you decided the punishment?”
“It involves torture.” She sized him up once again and decided his gift for defusing tense situations was just that and not an indicator of how he felt about them. “One hour,” she warned. “And shave?”
Some of the boys behind her gave a snicker, but she ignored them, instead continuing her royal progress and heading for the Danger Room. Rogue decided that Logan would be feeling it today.
Day One, 6th Hour, 43rd Minute
Bell pepper, onion, celery, cayenne, bay leaf…
Rogue sniffed appreciatively as she entered the kitchen and settled in a chair to watch the Cajun cook.
He was a master, and he moved with an easy grace in the kitchen. Some would look at his creations and find them a little plain and brown, but it was the real authentic deal and tasted heavenly to Rogue’s south-deprived taste buds.
For the last thirteen months since Remy had arrived at the mansion, looking for Storm and catching the bad end of a bet she had won from him, Rogue had most appreciated his southernness. Of course, he had to ruin that by immediately hitting on her, then every other available girl in the mansion, before unwisely winning away her dignity in poker. Then of course, like most men, he didn’t even realize she was fuming about it until she won away his last night.
She smirked again remembering.
“Morning, chère.” He didn’t even glance her way, just slid her a very full plate and handed her a glass.
“Merci.” She could be a little polite when it suited her.
This time he did look up. Smoldering red on black eyes a girl could drown in met hers. The man was handsome. And charming. And interested in anything female with legs on that didn’t have a man already. Well, Emma and Logan kept him from acting on interest in a girl that had a guy already.
“So what’s the punishment?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter. His devil-may-care attitude was yet another reason she’d loved beating him at cards. “Chinese water?”
“No.” Rogue set down her glass. “American shopping.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly, and she frowned. She hadn’t even noticed he’d been tense.
“I happen to be a very good judge of female attire,” he said with his usual charm.
“I know.” She smiled sweetly. “And Jubilee, Kitty, Emma, and I will want your opinion on everything.”
Remy blanched. “Firecracker?”
Rogue turned her voice saccharine sweet. “You know Jubilee will just be delighted to have a man that is a very good judge of female attire to help us out and carry the bags.”
“Merde!”
“No cussing in the kitchen, Gumbo.” Logan came in, claws out, looking like he just came out of a particularly rough Danger Room session, and pulled down a mug to get coffee. “A kid comes in here, and you’d be hearing it everywhere.”
“You cuss too!” Remy objected.
“Don’t bother Logan,” Rogue tossed off and dug into breakfast, effectively silencing the conversation.
Remy’s red eyes glowed hypnotically as he stared at her. He was miffed. She caught it in the line of his body. He wasn’t used to being ordered around like that. Or maybe he just didn’t like it.
“We leave right after school’s out,” she informed him a few minutes later. She handed him her empty plate.
Logan watched with interest.
“Careful, homme,” Remy threw at him. “Next time, she might get you.”
“Nah.” The Wolverine downed the dregs of his coffee. He grinned wolfishly. “I taught her how to play. I’ll never bet the house on her.”
Remy’s jaw dropped. “You taught the femme?”
Logan and Rogue both laughed as they joined each other on their way out, leaving Remy with the dishes.
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