Page 37

I have. Multiple times and with vigor.

Stars. I have seen stars and new galaxies and the beginning as well as the end of the universe. Again, multiple times. Sedulously.

But I haven’t conquered shit.

I’ve barely managed to wrangle the basics of my second job, sneak in a few random and randy thoughts on my laptop, and research floral arrangements.

When did Pinterest become my most used app? Between florals and toddler activities, my boards have exploded in number. My craft supplies are through the roof. And I have never been more replete with satisfaction in my entire life. Eddie and I have been fucking like rabbits at every opportunity.

I rifle through the stems splayed across my worktable in the garage. Fluffy white peonies and ranunculus, delphinium and bells of Ireland for height. And of course, gorgeous red cabbage roses.

This is my practice run, but, man, the money I spent on just one arrangement’s worth. It’s stupid.

And beautiful.

“I help? Pease?” A little arm wraps around my leg as her hand reaches for the utility knife hovering at the edge of the table.

I scoop Evie into my arms and kiss her sweet cheeks. “You can. How about you sit right here and tell me where your daddy is?” There’s no way she’s walking around unsupervised.

“Daddy,” she squeals, and I can feel a big body looming over my shoulder.

“Coccinelle. How are my pretty girls?” Eddie plasters his body to mine and slings an arm around me, his hand landing possessively against my stomach, rumbling in my ear, “We still need to talk.”

It’s only been a few days since this man fucked me senseless, but we have fallen into a rhythm of sorts. Fucking, figuring out care for Evie, and futzing around with flowers. Is there anything better than a good alliteration?

“Still don’t love hearing those words.”

Eddie did share with me that his baby mama was truly MIA and the nanny was otherwise indisposed for the time being. What exactly that means, I have no idea. And honestly, it hardly matters because I have become wildly attached to this kiddo. She is my near-constant companion and my new—well, only—girl bestie.

“Is this a talk while I work or do we need to sit down and be serious? Do I need to take notes?”

His chest presses into my back as he expands his lungs. The promise of the coming sigh is still just as sweet as it’s always been. My hair lifts and shifts, tickling my cheek and the base of my neck, resulting in a full-blown outbreak of goose bumps. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of them.

“There are things going down at the mansion that are decidedly not good.”

A laugh bubbles out of me at his absurdity. “You don’t say? Bad things at the estate of the head of the local crime syndicate? Who’da thunk?”

Eddie’s palm lands heavily on my ass. Not a spank by any means, but more of the sharp promise of one later. My nipples pebble, and the familiar clench deep inside has me considering abandoning the mountains of stems before me.

“What did I say’ll happen to your smart mouth?”

Mm… he did make a lovely promise that we’ve yet to explore. He’s been so focused on me and my orgasms, that I’d completely forgotten.

Eddie steps to the side, putting space between us that I have no interest in, not now. Not with his slappy hand and dirty suggestions. This man has more personal restraint than I know what to do with. He picks up one of the smaller stems and hands it to Evie. “I need you to focus, Jess. This is…”

Oh, the sigh. God, yes. Give me more.

Busy hands make for quiet minds, so I tape a precise grid on the top of a bucket, so the flower stems have support. “Okay. Hit me.” My lips quirk up on one side at the low sound he makes in his throat.

“Security is going to be tight for the wedding. You’re vetted already, and I assume you’ll be arriving early to install the flowers.” He doesn’t ask, just knows. “I’m going to have to keep Evie close, basically on me, if Chantal is still caught up in her personal stuff. I’ll be around if you need me, but…”

I clip a handful of stems and place them in the center of the grid. “Are you going to tell me what the current drama is?”

His head tilts one way and then the other like the weight of whatever he’s carrying is finding its center.

“It’s not like I haven’t been around, you know? I literally know where the bodies are disposed. What could you possibly need to hide from me?”

“Less hide, more”—tension weaves through him, tightening his shoulders—“protect. You’re right, you do have a lot of information, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to shield you.”