They eventually ate warmed-up food out on the back deck, Lisa sitting on his lap, eating from his fork.
* * *
THREE YEARS LATER
Some friends questioned why Splice and Lisa weren’t married or even living together.
Occasionally, Lisa got hit on, and before he could even leave his seat to sort out the joker who would dare flirt with his woman, she’d smile and point over at him. That usually got the guy to back down with an apologetic nod.
No one else needed to understand their relationship, but it worked for them. Rarely did a night go by when they slept apart, unless it was work-related.
It was at Lisa’s place or at his. The venue didn’t matter, as long as they were together.
To them, it was no big deal. It was normal.
He didn’t even mind that Lisa didn’t want another marriage. She was the love of his life; it was more than enough for Splice. She already wore her Owned By Splice patch. But after seeing another slimy bastard trying to put the moves on her in his bar one night recently, he vaulted over the bar and got the guy by the scruff of his neck, warning him to walk away.
Lisa had only laughed, but Splice had scowled, threatening to take her to Vegas for a quickie wedding.
Her solution?
She’d kissed his lips and said, “Get me a big ring then, so everyone knows who my man is.”
Splice didn’t need telling twice. Lisa was wearing a big-fucking-diamond the very next day, and every time he caught it glinting, he felt his chest burn with pride.
His woman.
With that one gesture, she’d completely calmed Splice.
But then she frowned at his empty hand, not long after that.
“Women still flirt with you.” She’d accused, pouting so cute; he’d wanted to bite her lip.
“I don’t flirt back,” he’d smirked, waiting for her to say what he suspected she’d say. He already had the matching silver band in a drawer at home.
“I want you to wear a ring, too.” She tipped her chin stubbornly, as if she expected an argument from him.
Didn’t Lisa get it yet? He was clingy with her.
“My ring is at home, sweetheart.” He shared and watched as her eyes widened. Within an hour, Splice also had a ring that showed everyone he was taken.
They were happy in their unconventional life, and no one could tell them otherwise. It would only change if Lisa decided it needed to change. Seriously, Splice would be fine living in a dog kennel if that’s her jam.
As he’d been told recently, he was down bad for her.
Were they brand new here? Of fucking course he was down bad for her. He was the down baddest of bad.
“Here you are.” He heard and craned his neck around to see Lisa coming through the sliding glass doors in his house. She padded barefoot, wearing only one of his gray hoodies that she collected like trophies.
Splice was already straightening his legs so Lisa could climb onto his lap. He passed her his half-empty beer bottle, and she took a little sip.
It was late; he’d only just got home from the clubhouse, nearing midnight, and he thought she was asleep after checking on her when he’d arrived home.
Curling an arm around her waist, he ran the other one over her exposed legs, warming them.
“It’s December, sweetheart. You’re gonna freeze.”
“I have you to keep me warm, don’t I?”
