Page 129 of The Renegade Billionaire
My gaze jumps between these two fools when it hits me—they are fucking with me.
“Yes, I’m sheathing the sword,” I growl.
“Dressing the pickle.” Cian clutches his stomach at his own idiocy, and Pops finally breaks into a belly laugh.
“Securing…the…sausage…wrapper.” Pops wheezes between each word.
I cross my arms over my chest, attempting to keep a straight face, but laughter is freaking contagious—especially his.
“Are you done?” I ask Cian because I’m fairly certain Pops could go on for days.
“Getting a glove for the love shove.” Cian falls into a chair, swiping at tears on his cheeks.
“The love shove!” Pops cackles.
“Getting the goalie ready.” I honestly didn’t know Cian had this in him. “Okay, okay, stop. I can’t breathe.”
“Stop?” I ask, incredulously. “You’re the one keeping it going.”
The two of them blubber incoherent words with tear tracks staining their faces. It’s quite the sight to see, but I can’t get over the fact that Pops is asking me if I’m having safe sex—at thirty years old.
“Okay. I think we’re good,” Cian says when he’s semi-composed.
“I’m so glad.” The sarcasm in my tone does nothing to keep them in check.
“Well, boy. Are ya?” Jesus. He actually wants me to answer him.
“Yes, Pops. I’m using a condom. I always use a condom. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“I should shoot you right in the ass for having sex in my house.”
My jaw drops to the floor.
“But seein’ as this ain’t my house anymore, there’s not much I can do ’bout it now, can I? But I’m watchin’ you.”
“I would expect nothing less,” I say truthfully.
“Now don’t go telling Madi I asked ’bout none of that. That’s her business, not mine to go messing around in.”
I’m fully dumbfounded. “Madi’s sex life is her business, but my sex life is up for interrogation?”
“Damn straight, skippy. You ever tried to interrogate Madison?” The old man shivers with a shit-eating grin. “You’re much easier to rile up.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I pray for patience because dealing with Pops requires all the tolerance in the world.
“Can we get back to the inn now?” I ask. “We need to insulate the attic and probably gut at least the entire third floor. Is that where we stand now?”
Cian nods. “Structurally, we’re sound, but technically we still need the report from the engineer before we continue. Cosmetically, if you want to do it right, I think you need to gut the entire place and start over. Update the electrical and the HVAC, all of it.”
“Right. Okay, but we can keep true to the original design in most cases, right? Madison loves this place the way it is. I want itto be safe, but I don’t want to take away all the charm that makes it hers.”
“That’s probably a question for someone like Elle. Not Elle because her due date is quickly approaching, but you can work with an interior designer to keep the elements you want.”
“Not me? Are you out of your damn mind?” Elle scolds from the front door. I hadn’t heard her come in, but I can tell immediately that something’s off.
She’s gripping the doorframe so tightly her knuckles are white, and she’s a little ashen. Did she walk over here? They’re literally next door, but it’s a hike through the field that connects the two properties.
“No one will be working in here but me, so stop trying to push me out, Cian.”
