Before their host could make his defense, however, Kami’s light voice drifted out ahead of her appearance. “Don’t worry, Shae,” she called in advance in tones that made it clear she knew he wasn’t, “there’s no staining. We got it out. If I hear one comment about it being a tit nipply, though...” She trailed off to stare, a bit bemused, at the new arrival ministering to a poor choking Ren and her hand froze at her chest where she had been trying to brush off some water droplets from the snug grey fabric of her top. “Oh, hi, Jack.”
It might not have been a delirious greeting of joy but it also wasn’t cursing and throwing things. A guy would take what he could get. Especially when it was followed by a warm smile.
As Kami made her way back into the room, she skirted Shae, still crouched over the guitar, and allowed her fingertips to just barely trail from one of his shoulders to the other, a warm line over and behind his neck. Subtle, affectionate, and one hell of a teasing rebuke for his earlier behavior. “Like I was saying,” she continued, hands back to herself, “Cara will be right out. Her dress is okay.” With that announcement, she threw herself down in a graceful sprawl, claiming Shae’s armchair, a wicked grin of challenge on her face.