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I nod decisively. “The evil chair, yes.” I grumble.
“The evil chair, right.”
My eyes narrow. “Don’t even think about laughing. I swear it moved on it’s own and just attacked my poor toe. It’s throbbing so much I can feel my heartbeat.” I may whine pitifully, but dammit, it still hurts.
He shakes his head slowly. “I would never dare to laugh at you for getting attacked by a possessed piece of furniture.”
“I feel as though you aren’t taking this very seriously.” I grumble as I gently slip on my socks and grab my sneakers.
His hand is still in front of his mouth but I swear I can still see is lips twitch. “I’m taking this very seriously. I’m seriously wondering if we should call Edge to find an exorcist. Wouldn’t want the tattoo guns downstairs to start attacking unsuspecting customers.”
“You’re not funny.” I growl and shove my foot into my sneaker with more force than necessary causing me to hiss. “You jack rabbit.”
He may be covering his mouth still but his snort is unmistakable. “Am I ajack rabbitor the chair?”
“No, my sneaker.” I growl, albeit very pathetically.
His whole body starts to shake, which truthfully wouldn’t be an unpleasant sight with all those muscles moving around, if I had any interest in men. Or if he wasn’t laughing at me. “You’re a bit of a mess today, huh, Darlin’?”
I glare up at him with enough malice to turn him to stone. Unfortunately, he just gives me a wide smile making me wish I was actually medusa. “Marrow, I’m a mess on good days and a disaster ninety percent of the time.”
He raises an eyebrow that’s so defined most women would be jealous. “I’m back to Marrow now, huh?”
I scrunch my nose. “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to call you. Kealy told me that all of the guys make fun of Edge when they hear her call him Ryan.”
He gives me a shrug, his wide shoulders going high, making me realize how big he actually is. He’s almost the size of my doorway which isn’t small by any means. “Eh, he only gets pissed if other people call him that. Kealy will always get a pass. It’s a woman thing.”
I give him a frown as I stand. “But Mel only calls him Edge. How can it be a woman thing?” I turn to look for my purse and see it on the coffee table.
“I meant that she’s his woman. She has free reign to call him whatever the hell she wants. It’s one of the only perks having to deal with his ass.” He chuckles so deeply that I swear I can feel the vibrations in my own body.
Seriously? Why do certain urges come back when he’s around? Urges that have been cold and dormant for a long time.
I turn back around after grabbing my purse and frown. My head tilts as I give him a questioning look. “But you told me that I could call you Jake. That doesn’t seem right.”
His lips twitch again, which momentarily mesmerizes me with how his beard moves each time. So much so, that I don’t see the look that passes over his eyes. “Nah, Sprite, I have absolutely no problem with you calling me Jake.”
I purse my lips. “Even around everyone else?”
“Even around everyone else.” He smirks like he has a secret that I can’t figure.
“Huh, okay.” I mutter before shaking my head. “Did you just call me a sprite?” I huff.
His eyes are definitely dancing with laughter now. “It fits.” He gives me a mischievous grin. “Plus, I figured you would like it better than Pigeon Lady.”
“I don’t look anything like some woodland fairy.”
He shakes his head slowly. “No, you look like a sprite, hence the name.”
I blink slowly. “They’re the same thing. Sprites are a form of fairy.”
He shakes his head. “No, they’re not. They’re completely different.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “They are the exact same thing, Jake.” If someone told me a year ago that I would be all alone in my apartment with a large and scary looking biker, arguing about the difference between sprites and fairies, I would’ve pissed myself from laughing so hard. How has this turned into my life?
His eyes narrow for a moment. “They’re completely different. Want me to Google it? Unlike Edge, I actually know how to use the damn internet.”
I wave my arm in front of me, possibly with more flourish than necessary just to be petty. “Be my guest.”
