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My fingers knead into her, and I fill my lungs with suppressing air. “Dece, sweetheart,” I groan. “Come on, babygirl. That’s enough before I lose my mind.”
She stills, reluctant, but finally pulls her fangs from me to pout.
I chuckle. “Pretty girl.”
“I was paying my rent,” she murmurs.
“Yeah?”
She nods, and her fingers tease my hair. “I think I overpaid, though.” Her eyes close, and she tips her mouth to me. “Please issue refund.”
Grinning, I lift her, sending her rocking forward to clutch me. With a twist, I dump her into the couch and put my hot cocoa in her hands once they come free from my hair. “You’re gonna make things hard on me, aren’t you?”
“I hope not.”
I get what used to be her mug and take a sip. “Should we just get married in the morning, you think? Before we head to my first gig?”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
“I…think I’d like a wedding. Something nice and small. Like August’s was. And…I hope maybe my parents would be there. But I don’t know if that’s possible.”
I tut. “We won’t know until we do. But if we’re biding our time, I’ll make sure we behave ourselves.”
Coasting her finger around the rim of what was my mug, she takes a sip and mutters, “What’s it matter? Why should we bother waiting? It’s always going to be us, regardless of when or after what. Who needs a ceremony first?”
“If you still feel that way when you’re not hurting and angry, I’ll agree with you. We can go in the yard and say our vows before the moon and let the rest be history, but I’m not gonna wife you up physically until I’ve pledged my heart to you first. Publicly, privately, legally, whatever. Doesn’t matter to me. But you’re gonna hear my promises before I hear you come undone. It’s important to me that I treat you in a certain way because I know how—” I cuss. “—close I can come to treating you wrong. You deserve respect, consideration, and love. That’s what you’re gonna get here.”
Bit by bit, December’s face softens until a dimple peeks out in her cheek. Eyes warm, she tucks against her mug. “Thank you, Wynn-Wynn.”
My heart swells. “Breakfast’s at eight tomorrow. Get up at seven, and I’ll teach you some things in the kitchen. Then, we’ll leave by nine. First job’s at ten. We’ll be there the entire day, breaking for an hour-long lunch. Probably, we’ll get home no sooner than eight. Then we’ll do pretty much the same exact thing the next day to finish up the job.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t wake up real well, so I’ll be grouchy for the first thirty minutes. That okay?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen you after you wake up before.”
“Do you have any clothes appropriate for this kinda work?”
“I will be robbing you of yours.”
I stare at her, picturing it. I bet the neckline of absolutely every last one of my shirts would fall entirely off her body. “Amendment,” I state, “breakfast’s at seven-thirty. We’re out of here by eight-thirty. We will be stopping by Walmart and getting you work clothes.”
“Ooh, supercenter clothing. Will there be overalls? I bet I’d look adorable in overalls.”
I bet she would, too. “We will prioritize overalls.” When I helped her unload her car a few hours ago, she wanted to be alone for a bit, and I don’t know if she was unpacking or…crying…during that time. “Have you been able to settle your things in your room yet?”
“For the most part, but I couldn’t help but notice the mattress I picked out with you earlier this year is missing.”
Ah. Right. “I swapped the mattresses the day after August’s wedding.”
She blinks.
“Alister used the one you picked out for a few days.”
Her head tilts.
