He frowns, bottle halfway to his lips. “Why so damn early?”
“The sooner we leave, the sooner I get back to my woman.”
Train’s eyebrows shoot up, and his face turns serious. “You thinking about hanging up the Nomad life?” He takes a swallow of beer. “I mean, I know you usually stay closer to home in the winter, but this feels different.”
I take another pull from my bottle and shrug. “Thinking about it.”
Train’s lips tip up. “A good woman will make you flip the script.”
Is that what Savannah’s done? Made me flip the script?
Maybe.
I take another long drink, finishing what’s left of my beer, then rap my knuckles on the bar-top. “See ya in the morning.”
Train nods, and I head for the door. The cold air is whipping when I step outside. My breath clouds in front of me as I hurry over to my truck.
Jumping inside, I fire up the engine and crank the heat to high.
“Shit, it’s cold.”
On the short drive home, I notice all the Christmas lights on houses and businesses. It’s like the whole damn city decided to vomit Christmas all at once. I never used to notice this kind of shit before.
Turning off the highway onto our gravel driveway, I can’t help but chuckle. The Christmas vomit hit my house, too.
I smile, thinking about that day last week when I took my woman to the mall for some girly shit she needed.
We’d been walking past the storefronts when she stopped dead in her tracks, her big blue eyes fixed on a Christmas display in one of the windows. It was a traditional tree, all lit up with red and gold ornaments, but the look on her face—it was like she’d never seen anything so beautiful.
“You want a tree?” I’d asked her.
“What? No, of course not.” She’d shaken her head quickly, but her eyes betrayed her.
“We should get one.” I’d nudged her with my elbow.
“Don’t be silly.” She’d waved me off. “You’ve already spent too much money on me.”
But I’d seen how she looked at that tree, all lit up in the window. So after we got her girly shit, I dragged her ass to Hobby Lobby. My God, I thought she was gonna lose her damn mind over all the Christmas crap in there.
And the way her face lit up—worth every penny I spent.
My lips twitch as I pull up to the house. There are white lights strung along the gutter of the house, and I can see our tree glowing through the front window. I park under the carport, cut the engine, and grab my cut from the passenger seat.
Sliding out, I hurry to the side door and step inside. The scent of vanilla hits me, making my stomach rumble. My woman’s got a candle burning on the stove, filling our place with its sweet aroma, and there’s a new tea towel hanging by the sink with a snowman on it.
My eyes track over the space that doesn’t even look like my trailer anymore. It’s clean, for one thing. All the bike parts and tools have been moved out to the detached garage at Pinky’srequest. The couch has goddamn throw pillows with little reindeer on them, and there’s a fuzzy blanket draped over the back.
It’s not just where I crash at night anymore. My butterfly has turned this place into a home.
A sound pulls my attention to the hallway just as Pinky emerges from our bedroom, her arms full of laundry. Her pink hair is wet, slicked back from her face, and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of panties and one of my T-shirts that swallows her whole.
My dick twitches at the sight.
“You shower without me, woman?” I ask, tossing my cut over the back of a barstool.
She grins, rolling those big blue eyes at me. “I didn’t know when you’d be back.”
I watch her walk through the kitchen to the laundry room, my eyes glued to her perfect ass. I hear the washer lid close, and then she comes back into view.
