Page 149 of Madness & Mayhem


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“Okay, well, what if you don’t pay me, and instead I use your website in my portfolio?”

“Portfolio,” I repeated. “Are you going to start your own business?”

“Maybe. A side hustle for sure. Would you be okay with that?”

I thought for a moment and then smiled. “I’m more than okay with you using my website in your portfolio, but from one business owner to another, you shouldn’t ever do any work that you don’t charge for. Nothing in life is free, so I’m going to pay you whether you want me to or not. Send me an invoice, and don’t be shy, okay? I really appreciate what you’re doing for my business.”

“Wow, are you sure?”

“Absolutely. It’s a win-win.”

“Okay. If you insist.” She grinned. “Ah, crap. I gotta go. Thanks for breakfast.”

“Thanks for the website.” I winked.

When I was alone, I leaned against the door. As I cleaned up the kitchen, I worked myself into a fine tizzy. If Slash had mirrored my feelings, he would’ve told me. Instead, he’d tried to fuck me in the kitchen to distract me. He would’ve succeeded if Willa hadn’t shown up.

But now my ardor had cooled and my brain had cleared.

If that man thought we were going to pick up where we left off in the kitchen, he was sorely mistaken.

Chapter31

The front door opened. “Babe?”

I sprayed the wooden trim where two walls met and rubbed the clean spot with a rag.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Cleaning.”

“Why are you cleaning? I had a service come in and do a deep clean before I even showed you the place.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?” I snapped.

“Oh, fuck. What’s going on here? I feel like I walked into something.”

“You walked into seven hours of stewing, combined with righteous indignation, topped off with a sprinkle of pregnancy hormones.”

“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” He sat down next to me. “So, you clean when you’re angry?”

“No. Usually I bake.”

“So why didn’t you bake?”

I stopped scrubbing and glared at him. “I ran out of flour. I made about fifty blueberry muffins before that happened.”

He raised his brows. “There are muffins?”

“I gave them to the neighbors.”

“You’re really punishing me.”

“I’m not punishing you. I’m trying not to throw a temper tantrum. It’s not working.”

“I didn’t say it back,” he said quietly.

My eyes dimmed. “No. No, you didn’t.”

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