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He backed up toward his car. “No working, just ordering your minions.”
She laughed. “You really don’t want me to get used to having minions.”
“You’re a queen, of course you should get used to it.” He rounded the hood of his car and got in with a wave.
“You’re a queen,” Lori said from the porch.
“I hate you,” she called back. She sighed and looked at Axl. “Want to go to the boardwalk?”
“Rides!”
She hugged him close and headed up to Lori’s door. “Rides it is.”
Chapter 25
Chloe had lived with a man before. Sort of.
Snake had needed a lot of alone time to figure out lyrics or…well, she didn’t really want to think about just what kind of other things he’d been doing when he wasn’t with her. There had been a lot of passing each other in the night.
Most of the time it was because she was working so much. She’d paid for much of the utilities as well as the apartment they’d lived in. Snake was always bouncing between manic highs where he was jamming with friends, and lows where she wasn’t sure he would come home. And often didn’t for days at a time. More than a few sessions in rehab hadn’t helped matters on that end.
The good days, he’d been attentive and romantic. Forever spinning stories about what their life would be like when he made it.
Needless to say, that hadn’t allowed him to keep a job for very long.
Living with Michael Shawcross was very different. For two weeks she’d been certain she was going to kill him. Not because he snored—he did, but only when he was really tired. After rather brutal practice sessions with his band, or a stressful show, those were a few of his darker moments.
But a dark moment for Michael was a grunt when he came in the door, followed by a long thorough kiss. He’d sigh, say her name in his dreamy grumble. Dreamy was her word. He’d die if she ever said that to his face. Then he’d take a shower and her Michael would be back.
Grins and silly noises for Axl as he sprawled on the floor to play with him before bedtime. Long, leisurely conversations on the balcony for her. He never ran out of words. Some in the flowery Michael-speak she was getting used to. More so of the dirty variety that she secretly loved.
Nights were often spent naked. At least on Michael’s end. The man just didn’t like clothes. Considering he was approximately the body temperature of a furnace—she knew this because she barely needed a blanket at night—she could see why.
The killing part came from the boy side of his nature.
Her two-year-old was better at picking up after himself than Michael was. She picked up a bowl from beside the couch, then found another on the bookcase, and a glass on the floor next to Axl’s toy box.
She shook her head as she found two more cups on her way into the kitchen.
Axl came careening through the living room, his arms out like a plane. The plus side of that? His balance was a lot better. The minus? She had to chase after him and make sure he didn’t take out all of the man-child toys Michael didn’t put away.
Guitars, stands, a mini amplifier that Axl thought was an awesome rock to climb—none of it was cheap Ikea or Target end tables like she had at her apartment. It felt like everything in Michael’s place was from a catalog. And an expensive one at that.
She scooped Axl up before he ran headlong into the tower of gaming consoles. “Okay, buddy. No more plane, huh?”
His face scrunched up as he arched away from her. “No.”
“Let’s go play with your Legos.”
“Chopter.”
She dumped the dishes in the dishwasher with a wriggling Axl over her shoulder. Then she tried to do the same soaring over the head angle that Michael could do. Unfortunately, Axl was twenty-five pounds as of his last check up, and she was pretty sure he was more toward thirty. He’d sprout up again soon. He always chunked up a bit before zooming up.
Which would mean new clothes again.
Nope, don’t think about that right now.
She hooked her arm around his middle and spun around once. Axl shrieked. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t as good at that as Michael. Hmm. She eyed the yoga mat she’d picked up at Target that morning.
