“Good. He’s welcome to all the women in the world.” I’d heard about Devlin’s ex, Ashley. She was currently starring in my work in progress as a bad guy because I hated that she’d hurt him, and that he was still acting out. He’d denied his playboy ways had anything to do with her, but I could tell. It was definitely a case of the laddie doth protest too much.
I looped an arm around Killian, snuggling against him. “You’re mine.”
He kissed my temple. “And I’m always going to be, my pretty novelist wife.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Killian
–two years later
>
I walked down the frozen foods section in Sunny’s. Come on… Bouncy Bare Monkeys should be in. I’d bribed Jenny to text me the second they got some.
Ah ha! There! The final tub! I opened the door, then reached inside to grab the prize I’d been seeking…
What the fuck?
A hand with long, manicured red fingernails gripped my ice cream and refused to let go.
“Hey, I put my hand on it first!” I said.
“No you didn’t!” Molly Patterson said, her eyes narrowed.
“Wanna check the security footage?”
Her face turned red. “Who do you think you are, Killian?”
“An expectant dad. You?”
“I have a birthday party to plan.” Her nostrils flared and she breathed out like a bull ready to charge.
Time for a new tactic. I flicked my gaze to the floor. “Oh shit! Is that a cockroach on your foot?”
“What? Ack!” She jerked back while screeching like she wanted to shatter every piece of glass in the surrounding counties.
“Ah ha!” I took the ice cream and dashed to the cashier.
She quit screaming and started yelling. “Hey, stop!”
“Grabbers keepers, losers weepers.” I swiped my plastic, then took the tub and ran to my car.
When I walked into our home—formerly Emily’s home—Emily jumped to her feet. “You get it?”
“Of course. I’m the man!” I started to sing the Rocky theme, holding the ice cream over my head with two hands like a trophy.
“I love you, honey!” She rushed over with a spoon she’d probably been holding since I’d left.
I gave her the ice cream and watched her dig in like she hadn’t eaten in ages.
She was in her first trimester. She couldn’t keep anything down except ice cream. And not just any ice cream, but Bouncy Bare Monkeys.
Sitting down on the couch, I pulled her on my lap and kissed the side of her neck. “That good, huh?” I teased.
“Yes.” She sounded a little teary. “You don’t understand how cravings work.”
“It’s too bad pregnancy doesn’t make women crave more bedroom action.”