Page 61 of Cold Foot Croc

She inhaled deeply, and nodded again. Raynah took him by the hand and walked him up the stairs, then hesitated at the top, waiting for him to take it in.

Garret looked around the bare bedroom. There was no bed, no bedside table, no dresser. She’d set up a wooden, folding partition to block off the corner.

Raynah squeezed his hand and tugged him to where he could see the twin-sized mattress behind the partition. There was a phone charger plugged into the wall, a bottle of water, and one single pillow on the neatly-made, small mattress on the floor.

“I have issues,” she said, breaking the silence.

“You were in jail a long time, weren’t you?” he asked, trying to understand.

“Yes.”

“Is the small space more comfortable to sleep in because it’s familiar?”

“Yes. I measured the space to be the same as the cell I shared with Katrina. I can’t sleep in big open spaces.”

He turned to her, and admitted, “I want to know everything about you.”

“Wh-what?”

“You’re surprising, and interesting. You always have a reason for your quirks, and I want to learn all the reasons.”

“So you…you would be okay with sleeping in my little prison cell with me?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I slept on a love seat for three years when I was growing up. We didn’t have much money, and me and my brother each had to pick a couch because we didn’t have bedrooms. He got the big couch. I had to sleep in the fetal position as soon as my growth spurts started happening. I can just sleep on the floor beside the mattress.”

“You just don’t get scared off, do you?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“I ate a man and went to prison for it, and I’m having another man’s baby, who was not planned, and I live in an empty house with thirty-two houseplants.”

“You punished a woman-beater and served the consequences for that, and had something terrible happen to you in there. You live in the house in a way that has made you comfortable, and I like your houseplants. You’ll probably get houseplants for every holiday from here out because you clearly love them.” He gestured to the trio of plants in the corner of her tiny cell-room. Behind them was a pile of sticks and leaves and forest debris. “I like your nest.”

“I probably need a baby bed.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m pretty okay at reading instructions and can put one together for you. There’s one downstairs at the bottom of the present pile. You can eat the leftover canned seafood while I work.”

“That…” She dropped her gaze to the floor, but he’d seen it—the moisture building in her eyes. “That’s really nice of you,” she whispered thickly.

“Let’s decorate your home. Get it ready for your life with baby Billy-Jack.”

“Baby Maybe-Billy-Jack,” she corrected him.

He patted her perfect ass and murmured, “Come on. I’ve got some work to do.”

“We’vegot some work to do.”

“Oh yeah? You’re going to help me?”

“We are going to teamwork this. You dig the crib box out of the pile, and I’ll make us snacks. We can build it by the fireplace. I mean, if you want.”

“I want that,” he said easily.

Her eyes were full of such deep emotion still, and God, could she hear his heartbeat drumming against his sternum? This woman owned him.

She was going to figure that out at some point.

Chapter Thirteen

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