Page 34 of Rescued By the Alien Bull Rider

“Hmm.” He drummed his claws upon his big, purple chin. “I suppose you must show her how caring you can be. Have you tried making her some jambrewskies?”

“Making her somewhat?”

“Jamgiggities.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re saying.”

“Clothes they sleep in! You must know the sort. Jamburritos.” He shook his head, as if disappointed in me. “Ireally thought you’d know what human jamchiladas were by now.”

“Warden Tenn, I must advise you that, in my professional opinion, you’re probably having a stroke.”

He did not appear alarmed.

“It’s a human word. Don’t blame me. It’s not as if I came up with a word as ridiculous as jamdildos.”

“Jam…dildos…”

“Look,” he said, a conspiratorial gleam coming into his eyes. “I have come prepared.” He led the way to his slicer. From inside the storage compartment, he pulled out wads of shiny, slippery-looking fabric. “This is perfect for jamdildos.”

I eyed the fabric doubtfully. “I don’t know what jamdildos look like.”

“It’s just clothing, but softer. Breathable. Something soothing on their delicate human skin…”

Warden Tenn’s eyes burned briefly white as he gazed longingly at the house.

“Give me that!” I snatched the fabric from his hands. “Stop getting all white-eyed thinking of your wife’s jamdildos!”

“I wasn’t,” he insisted.

“You were!”

“I was thinking of my wife without her jamdildos.”

Empire help me.

“I’m sure Tasha is helping to calm her now,” Warden Tenn said. “Communication is very important between human females. Some days, Tasha spends nigh-on half the day in the group chat.”

“What the blazes is a group chat?”

“It’s on her data tab. It’s just a simple messaging program, but all the human women on Zabria Prinar One are included in it. They send messages back and forth to each other.”

“Sounds insufferable.”

“Tasha seems to like it. She’s always laughing about whatever goes on in there. It’s all very mysterious.” He waved his tail towards the house. “So we’ll give them some privacy. And some time to talk.”

“How much time?” I grumbled, clutching the absurdly thin fabric.

“As much as it takes.” His gaze fell to my hands, and his grin returned. “In the meantime, you can get to work on Jolene’s jamdildos.”

15

JOLENE

“So,” Tasha said, sitting across from me at the table. “How far along are you?”

Before I could answer, the corners of her mouth pulled down.

“Sorry,” she said, brushing a silky strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I hope that isn’t coming across as too intrusive or rude. I’ll have lots of questions about you and your story outside of the pregnancy part. But right now I really just want to nail down some of the most pressing issues here.”

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