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“Get out.”
“It’s true.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s the new batch of hormones or—”
“Hot Papa Biker in your bed?” She waggled her brows.
“And you’re done.”
“I’m impressed,” she said with another look at the sketch. “The Benningtons are going to love it. Okay, that’s out of the way. Tell me all the good stuff.”
“But the pizza isn’t here,” I said. “And I can’t tell youallthe good stuff.”
“Why? Because it’s R-rated?”
My cheeks flamed.
Her mouth dropped open. “X-rated?”
I cleared my throat. “Let’s start with the brick through the window.”
“Yeah, that’s a good place to start. Did the cops find a suspect?”
“We never called the cops,” I said.
“No? Why the hell not?”
I blew out a puff of air. “Slash was handling the situation and he has a thing about cops.”
“Oh. Because he’s a biker?”
“I guess, yeah. We never got into why, but he called a couple of Blue Angels and they got the window fixed. And Slash took me to a hotel. He didn’t want us to stay here that night.”
She nodded. “Makes sense. I still think you should’ve called the cops. Then you could’ve filed an insurance claim for the window.”
“Yeah, I guess I could’ve gone that route, but I checked the security feed and all I saw was a shadowy hooded figure. They just threw the brick and then ran away.”
“Did the alarm scare them off?”
“I don’t know.” I frowned. “I haven’t really spent a lot of time thinking about it.”
“You haven’t?” she demanded. “Someone threw a brick through the front window of your bakery! I don’t know if it’s safe for you to live here. Especially by yourself.”
“You don’t?” I asked.
She adamantly shook her head. “No.”
“Good,” I said dryly. “Because Slash asked me to move in with him and I said yes.”
Jazz blinked. And blinked again. “He asked you—wait—what?Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I repeated. I rubbed the back of my neck. “He, ah, took me to this little house in an older neighborhood. Two bedroom, one bathroom. It’s a rental, but, yeah. So that’s happening…”
“Holy shit. This is going at warp speed.”
I pointed to my belly. “This kind of changed it all up.”
“So, if you weren’t pregnant, you wouldn’t be moving in with him.”
“Definitely not,” I quickly voiced. “I mean, I don’t think so. No. I mean, there’s—whew. There’s a lot going on.”
