Page 71 of Never Trust the Living (Battle Crows MC 7)

When I got there, I had to have a laugh because I nearly ran into the bathroom door in my haste to get cleaned up.

“We need to get some towels in the bedside drawer.” I heard him moving around. “I’ll be back. Gonna go to the hall bathroom.”

I cleaned up and met him back in the bed five minutes later.

He curled me into him as he said, “I’ll try to do better next time.”

If he did any better, I’d be dead.

I snickered. “Much better, and I just might not live to see the other side.”

His arms tightened around me.

Then, with more seriousness than I’d been expecting for a conversation I’d just been teasing him about, he said, “You’re not ever allowed to die, Dor. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you did.”

I felt that in my soul.

His heartfelt words, and the way he was so serious, made me realize that he meant every single word.

Holy shit.

CHAPTER 19

Gossiping with my husband is a different kind of tea.

-Text from Dory to Bram

DORY

“No!” I cried out, laughing as I did. God, could the man make me smile. “You can’t do that!”

“Why not?” he asked seriously. “Dory, they’ll never notice.”

“They will, too!” I hissed, but there was still a smile on my face. “Not to mention, they’ll be able to tell by the way my freakin’ arm is weighed down when I’m carrying out a to-go box.”

He twisted the cast iron skillet over in his hand, then hefted it once. “It’s just so cute.”

It was.

We’d bought a ‘cookie monster’ dessert from the restaurant we were at, and it’d come out in the cast iron skillet that he was now trying to steal.

“If I can’t take it, then how will I ever make you another cookie?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me with mirth filling his eyes.

I had to pause at that one.

It might be worth it, going to jail for him trying to steal a skillet, just to have steady access to a cookie whenever I wanted it.

“I’ll buy one on Amazon. It’ll get here in like two days,” I teased.

“Amazon is taking like a fuckin’ week to deliver shit now. There’s no way it’ll get here in two days,” he grumbled, sitting back into the booth and crossing his arms over his chest. “For real. You won’t get it before next week. And I know you’ll want another one with how fast you ate that and barely shared.”

I snickered.

He was right.

I’d want another one before then.

“Then I’ll just get you to drive us back down the coast and we’ll come here again,” I pointed out.

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