Page 35 of The (Maybe) Murderer Who Knocked Me Up

I can’t help but wonder why he didn’t just punch the guy who was threatening his brother. One jab from Slade, and he would’ve been knocked out cold. Why would a man like him need a weapon unless he intended to kill someone?

I use the tissues on the nightstand to clean myself up. It’s not ideal, but if I don’t get my clothes on, we won’t be leaving this room anytime soon. I reach for my underwear, only to remember that Slade completely destroyed them. My pants are similarly ruined.

Damn it. What am I supposed to do now?

I settle for putting on my shirt and waiting for Slade on the edge of the bed. He emerges from the bathroom still naked. Which shouldn’t be surprising because he didn’t bring his clothes in there with him. But from the front he is even more glorious than he was from the back. The weird thing is, I’m not just sexually attracted to him. My inner omega yearns to curl up in his lap and stay there all day.

He stares at me with yearning in his eyes too. Maybe he also wants to cuddle. Instead, he picks up his underwear and pulls it on.

“Um. You sort of ripped my clothes,” I say.

He glances down at the ruined pants. “Right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. My aunt always keeps a change of clothes in her car. Maybe you could go out to the Jeep and get them out of the trunk. The pants probably won’t fit great, but they’ll be better than nothing.” I hold out Aunt Emerald’s keys.

He takes them from me. “Oh. It isn’t your car?”

“Um, no. My car is actually a big van that says, ‘Bandit Bakery.’ Because that’s my business. And she’s taking that van to the farmer’s market today.”

I didn’t have to tell him about Bandit Bakery, but I kind of want him to know that I run my own business. Even if that business got its start from the bakery my mom discontinued after my brothers and I graduated from high school.

Slade’s lips quirk up on one side. “Bandit Bakery, huh?”

“You know how raccoons look like they’re wearing a little bandit mask?” I say. The logo has a raccoon face, so I don’t normally have to explain.

“Yeah, I got it. Good for you, Quin.” He steps into his jeans and yanks them up. “I’ll be right back.”

He walks out the door without putting on a shirt. Which is fine. He’s allowed to be shirtless wherever he wants. I shouldn’t feel jealous that other omegas will get to look at him. I’m not a jealous person. Or I thought I wasn’t a jealous person. Maybe this thing with our unfinished bond is fucking with my head.

Whether I like it or not, this problem has become large enough that I can’t keep it to myself anymore.

I text my omega mom to let her know I’m running late. I also tell her to wait on the porch.

She responds immediately.

It’s hot as the Christian hell outside. I’m not waiting for you on my porch.

Damn it. She’s right.

Okay. Could you hide every photo of Chime, then? I’m bringing Slade.

Three dots appear on the screen. They keep going for a long time, until finally she sends a suspiciously short text.

Okay.

I get a message from my alpha mom.

Are you safe?

They’re just looking out for me. I know that. But it’s a reminder of what they really think of Slade, and who could blame them?

I send a message to both my moms, reassuring them that I’m with Slade of my own free will and he’s been a perfect gentleman. Besides ripping my jeans in half, of course, but I don’t mention that.

Slade walks in the door with the green gym bag Aunt Emerald keeps in her trunk. He shuts the door and brings it over to me, depositing on my lap.

“Your aunt is a creative dresser.”

Oh no. She’s mentioned several times that she only puts clothes in here that she won’t miss. That doesn’t bode well. I unzip the bag to find a T-shirt that says, “It’s Wine O’clock Somewhere,” several lacy thongs, and a bright pink pair of shorts that has the words, “Easy Lay” on the ass.

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