Page 70 of Alaric


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“But we don’t know how long that might be,” I reasoned, even if my heart was all gooey at the very suggestion of staying longer with him.

“So? I’m in no rush to have you guys leave,” he said, shrugging it off. “Though, you might want to grab more of your shit than I did,” he added. “I was kinda doing it blind. But if you’re gonna stay longer, you should make sure you have enough of your shit.”

Oh, I was going to stay longer, alright.

Hell, I would stay as long as I felt welcome.

So I did go into my room, dragging my big duffel out from under my bed, and shoving clothes and bathroom essentials into it with wild abandon. For good measure, I grabbed some of my important documents, too, not wanting to leave them in an unmanned apartment.

By the time I was done, Alaric had already packed up what was left of Frida’s things, then took my stuff from me.

Maybe it was silly, but as I locked the door behind me as we left, it almost felt like it might be the last time. Like I wouldn’t be coming back.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Alaric asked as we drove back to his place. “Go try shooting? Go out to eat?”

“Actually, what I really want to do is paint that living room of yours,” I admitted, since we’d discussed the swatches over breakfast, and had both decided the green shade was the winner.

“Yeah?”

“I really like that kind of thing,” I admitted.

Even if, maybe, I should have suggested anything other than something that felt a heck of a lot like playing house, like making his place feel a little like mine as well.

But that was something I could think about later.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alaric

Two days stretched into three.

And I don’t know where the self-control came from not to throw her down on the bed and fuck her into oblivion.

Well, actually, I did.

The painting.

It was the painting’s fault.

We’d started in on the living room, but really got into the swing of things, painting the ceiling and trim, then the dining room, and the kitchen cabinets.

After that, we were both laughably weak and achy, and so exhausted we could barely manage to each shower the paint slashes away before crashing in bed.

Then, well, mornings didn’t leave much time for fooling around thanks to Frida and her very finely tuned internal clock.

I suddenly wanted to finish clearing the backyard, put up a quick fence, then install a doggie door. If that would allow me time to stay in bed with Siana for another hour or two. Doing anything other than sleeping.

I was bringing Frida back inside, knowing Siana was likely just getting out of the shower, a towel wrapped tightly aroundher that I could so easily flick off, when I got a call that had me letting out a sigh as I reached for it.

“Hey, Huck,” I said, wondering how much Seeley had told him already.

“Hate to break up your fuckathon,” he said, making me close my eyes as I let out a huffing laugh. “But I need my SUV back. If you want, come and trade it for one of the cars. But there’s a drop coming up this afternoon.”

“Got it,” I agreed. “I can be over in maybe half an hour.”

“That works. Thanks.”

With that, he hung up, making me wonder what the drop was. And who was doing it. I hadn’t heard a word about it. But I also hadn’t even texted any of the guys in days, let alone dropped in over there.

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