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“No, you made me stay at home like a child while you went off to fight night,” he complained, wrapping his arms around me.
That’s because I fought Fancy Jeans guy, and I didn’t want Devon anywhere near that loser. He was surprisingly easy to goad into a BBQ fight, and he was even easier to win against. The bloody brow came from my brother, and that was only because he was so drunk he tripped and knocked me into the side of my own truck. I wiped the spot of blood off before Devon could see it.
“You didn’t want to fight me,” I blamed him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders to steer him inside. “I got you something else, though.”
“What?”
“I’m gonna shower first.” I kissed him and left him in the kitchen.
I took a cold shower—no hot water heater—and then kept the towel around my waist to meet him in the kitchen. He had his glare focused on the sink like it was some war he was personally fighting, but I loved his commitment to making our place better.
Goddamn, he was sexy. He had a tan from working at the shop and spending a lot of time on the docks. His blond hair was lighter than usual from the sun, and the tops of his shoulders were just a touch sunburned. Fair-haired fucker. My husband. We made it a whole year.
“Devon,” I called, getting his attention.
He turned around, crossed his arms, and leaned against the counter, eyeing me with equal parts admiration and skepticism. “What’d you do?” he asked, doubting me already.
“I spent money you’re going to claim we don’t have,” I said, walking up to him. “But I’m ready to fight with you about it all night, so don’t hold back.” I grinned.
I leaned against the front of him, trapping his stubbornly crossed arms between our chests. His blue eyes watched me carefully, trying to figure out what I could have spent so much money on.
“You got two dogs, didn’t you?”
“Nope.” I laughed. “Just one.”
“Don’t tell me you legitimately bought that BBQ because I wouldn’t believe it for a second.”
I laughed again. “No.”
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“Kiss me.”
He licked his lips, teasing me. “Tell me first.”
I leaned in until our noses brushed, but I didn’t kiss him. I’d make this asshole succumb first. Just to say I could.
To his credit, he tried really hard to fight it, but when I leaned against his body and popped my hands on the counter on either side of him, he buckled.
“Ah, fuck you, Maddox.” His lips pressed to mine and his hands weaselled their way up to my neck.
I didn’t know how it was possible, but kissing him now was even more intoxicating than it had been that first time at the track. I’d been fucking this guy for years and I still couldn’t get enough of him. It was our storm. The storm we created together when our competing energies thrashed to produce the most intense concoction of love, respect, and desire. Devon became my counterpoint, my fulcrum, and the axis that my life swivelled on, and somehow, I’d made him mine.
He dropped his hands down to my chest and pushed me away while fighting not to pull me closer. He wanted his answer, but he wanted to get laid just as badly. Always a competition.
I tightened the faded blue towel around my waist and slid a box across the counter. Devon looked at it, then at me, then regarded us both with weariness.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Open it, fight me about it, and then hate fuck me for messing up our finances. I don’t care. But youwillgo to bed happy tonight, Devon.” That was a promise.
He shook his head, shoved me out of his way, and tore the box open. Inside, he found two winter jackets that had been hard to find in this climate, some hats and mitts I’d found at the thrift store, boots, and an envelope.
“What is all this? Where’d you even find winter clothes around here?” He looked at me. “Why do we need these?”
“Would you shut up and open the envelope?”
He glared at me, ripping it open. His glare turned into shock, then awe, then anger. Oh, there he was.
