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“That’s why you read the entire spread and use your intuition. Not Google.”
“How’s this?” His smile takes on a seductive gleam. “My intuition says I’m gonna be fucking you doggy-style right here in this bed forty-five minutes from now.”
I blink and scoot back a few inches. “Like hell you are.”
He shrugs. “My prediction is about as accurate as anything here.”
I reach over and scoop up my stuff. “Get your negative energy away from my cards.”
“Which ones do you keep getting?” He rests his hand over mine to still my movements.
“The Devil’s jumped out three times.”
“What else?”
“The Three of Swords. I guess those are the two consistent ones. And Justice.”
He flicks through a few more screens on his phone and jots down more notes.
“Your handwriting looks like chicken scratch.”
He ignores me.
“Fuck me,” he breathes out, staring at the notes in front of him. “Your Three of Swords isn’t just breakups. It’s loneliness and rejection.”
“I’m lonely on the road,” I admit with a pathetic shrug. “It made sense.”
He sighs and pulls me to his side, kissing the top of my head. “Chickadee, I’m going to be so far up your ass from now on, you won’t have time to be lonely.”Rooster
“There’s your faulty intuition again,” she sasses. “You’re not getting anywhere near my ass.”
I snort. “Famous last words.”
My gaze strays to the notes I made. Do I believe in this stuff?
Fuck no.
But I’ll admit it’s weird that she keeps dealing the same cards. But there’s probably a perfectly logical reason for that. Maybe she ate a cinnamon bun one day right before touching the deck and a few of them are sticky. Or maybe one’s bent a fraction in a way that makes it easier or more likely to be pulled from the deck.
But now that my initial surprise that she thought we were going to break up because some cards told her so has worn off, I genuinely want to understand.
Before we get distracted, I tap my pen on the notepad. “Your Devil card?”
“It’s not as bad as people think.”
“Few things are.” I tap my pen harder on the word Devil to keep her attention. “Obsession. Negativity.” I slide my pen to the Three of Swords. “Loneliness. Rejection.”
“Oh my God.” She slaps my arm a few times. “It’s a warning about my stalker.”
I glance at the cards again. I was going to say she needs to stop reading that stupid Sippin’ on Secrets blog. But her interpretation actually makes more sense. “That works. He’s a fucking reject who’s fixated on you.”
“Oh, wow.” She covers her hand with her mouth. “I asked a career question the first time. Not a love reading. I should’ve known…He wouldn’t know who the heck I was if I didn’t have a career!”
This feels like the most fucked-up mashup of a YouTube conspiracy video and game Madlibs ever. But fuck do I love her and I never want her to doubt us.
“Shelby.” I squeeze her tighter, aware what I’m about to say will make me sound like a bit of a dick. “No more love readings. You don’t need ’em. If I’m ever unclear, just ask me whatever the fuck you need to know. I’m much more straightforward than the universe will ever be.”
“Where is this relationship going?” A smile teases the corners of her mouth up.
“Is that what you’d ask during a love reading?”
“Yup.”
I cup her cheek, staring into her eyes. “Everywhere, Shelby. We’re going everywhere. Together.”Chapter Fifty-EightShelby
The heaviness has left my heart. Sure, Mr. Creepy Letters is probably out there somewhere setting his silver pen of terror to black paper.
But tonight, I’m safe with Rooster.
I grab my bag and duck into the bathroom to wash up and brush my teeth. I still can’t find my jammy pants so I slip on a T-shirt.
Rooster’s shirtless with only a sheet covering him from the waist down when I return. It’s impossible to stay mad at him. Not when he tucks his hands behind his head, displaying his body like some sort of Viking warrior determined to claim my heart forever.
I drop my bag on my side of the bed and flop down next him, trying not to stare.
“What’s wrong, chickadee?” He doesn’t even bother to hide his smug smile at catching me checking him out.
“You think you can lie there being all sexy and your manly muscles will make me drop my panties, don’t you?”
“You’re not wearing panties.” In a quick move, he powers forward and wraps one big hand around my ankle, yanking me under him. He’s so dang strong, I might as well be a rag doll.
I reach up, touching his cheek, memorizing every detail of his face. The chasm of love in my heart for this man scares me to pieces.
“You know how much I love everything about you?” He brushes his lips over my forehead, my nose, my eyelids, and finally, my lips.
