Page 117 of Fighting a Riot

His eyes went sharp. “You aren’t lying to me, are you?”

“No.”

“You have to keep your strength up.”

I rolled my eyes and immediately regretted it. “Yak, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t think my strength is gonna mean a damn thing against this awful disease.”

He tugged the tablet away from me, put it on the coffee table, turned back to me, and cupped both my cheeks. “Listen to me, Elenora Rose.”

“Really? Using my middle name,” I muttered.

“Bet your ass I am. You’re fighting this disease and you’re gonna fuckin’ beat it.”

Part of me yearned to argue, but with the depth of sincerity shining from his eyes, a big part of me believed him.

“It’s out of my hands, Yak,” I reminded him.

His hands slid so his thumbs were at my ears and he rested his forehead against mine. “No, it fuckin’ isn’t. You keep fighting. Not gonna listen to that resigned tone from you, woman.”

God, how I loved him. His words were fierce, but the resolve in his eyes… that would’ve bowled me over had I been on my feet.

“It’s not a resigned tone, honey. But I love how adamant you are.”

“Good, because that isn’t gonna change.”

My phone chimed and I grabbed his wrists. “That’s probably my mom texting.”

He pulled his forehead away. “Okay.”

I grinned. “I hope you’re ready to meet her and Gary. They’re flying in tonight.”

The alarmed look wasn’t quite deer-in-headlights, but it was as cute as it was funny. After a beat, he said, “Why the fuck are they flying in tonight? Didn’t they tell you ahead of time?”

My head tilted a touch. “No. Trust me, I wasn’t thrilled… I mean, I love seeing Mom and my stepdad, but I’d have preferred time to change my sheets and get food in my kitchen.”

He leaned away. “Say that shit again?”

At his irritated tone, I replayed my words. “Well, I figure I’ll be back in the carriage house while they’re here.”

“What the fuck for?”

“What do you mean?”

His huge hands grabbed my waist and he moved me so I was straddling his lap. He leaned back in the sofa. “You love me, and I’m in deep with you. I told you I’m not letting you go without a fight. That includes even a few nights away from you. There’s no need for you to be in that carriage house. Hell, let them stay at the carriage house.”

I rested my hands on his broad shoulders. “That was the plan. They’re going to sleep in my bed –hence the need for clean sheets– and I’m going to be on the couch.”

His eyes flared. “You are not on a fuckin’ couch, Elenora. You’re in my bed no matter if the damned Pope comes to visit with his shiny, see-through Pope-mobile or whatever.”

My body shook with silent laughter. “All right, you’ve made your point. I’m sleeping here. Though, I’d love to arrange for a ride in the shiny, see-through Pope-mobile.”

He nodded, but his eyes darted to the front window and he frowned.

“What?” I asked.

His expression held hints of disappointment when he looked at me. “You won’t be embarrassed, right? Your new man being a biker and manager of a gentlemen’s club and all that.”

I leaned forward and slid my hands along his cheeks until my thumbs were at his ears. Just like he’d done to me a few minutes ago, I rested my forehead against his. “Not a chance in hell would I be embarrassed by you, Noah Spencer. I love you and part of what makes you who you are is your club. Seems clear you’re great at managing Platinum’s, so if you enjoy that work, then I’m all for it. Hell, Mom’s gonna think it’s romantic how we met.”

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