Page 122 of His Big Bad Stick

I care about them…?

“Of course I fucking care about you,” I say. “And the baby. You’re both mine. And you, kitten, I’ve cared for from the second I laid eyes on you.”

Now I’m just saying things that I’m not sure I should be saying.

I kiss Abrielle again.

This time harder.

Then mid-kiss, I feel myself wanting to talk again.

What the fuck is wrong with me right now?

“What the hell were you trying to hang up?” I ask, my lips still touching hers.

“Lighting,” Abrielle whispers. “I have these cool bulbs… well, you made me drop and break one…”

“You’re never getting on a ladder again.”

“Is that an order?” Abrielle teases.

“Yes, kitten,” I say. “That’s a fucking order.”

29

Abrielle

Butterflies.

In my stomach. In my heart. In my head.

Tickling throughout my entire body.

I swear I feel fluttering where the baby is too.

Maybe this isn’t exactly a traditional situation or one someone would dream of.

For me, this is…

He’s cared about me since he met me?

He was such an awful human then.

He still is now… but I can handle it. I can handle him.

Obviously…

I touch my stomach.

Colver cleans up the broken glass off the floor and then looks around at the ceiling. I tell him my idea for the stringed lighting. Something that looks familiar and casual to people. Then I can turn on specific lights for parts of the gallery.

Yes, it’s a ton of custom wiring, but I want this place to pop.

I’ve already had a licensed electrician handle all that wiring.

Behind the counter - the one where Colver went down on me and Jess saw - there are a bunch of switches that I already have labeled.

“So you want to string this back and forth?” Colver asks.

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