“No.” I bit down on my lower lip, calculating in my head how much it’d cost to fix Jimmy’s damn door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s been over ten minutes. They should be done by now. I must retire to my fainting couch.” “If you’re referring to the sofa in the conservatory…don’t. Row and I christened it last time we stayed over.” “Cal,” I barked out. “Also, the entire kitchen, guest room, and every shower in the house,” Row informed me lazily. “Really, stay away from the whole fucking house if the idea of people porking on its surfaces annoys you.”