“I’m glad you like it,” I whispered into his ear, ignoring everything else that he’d said. “How about taking it for a spin?” And if that got him away from the house as the furniture delivery van was turning up the block? Excellent timing.
I hustled Paul into the driver’s seat of the SUV and handed him a tissue as a fresh round of tears began to fall. “Come on, now,” I said with a laugh. “You can’t cry and drive at the same time!”
Paul choked on a watery laugh and moped at his eyes. Dropping the tissue into his lap, he slid the key into the ignition. “I can’t believe you bought me a car.” He shot me a cheeky side glance as he slowly eased out of the driveway and onto the street. “I was perfectly happy with the bun’s car seat!”
“Brat,” I tsk’d but could tell from the smile on Paul’s face that he knew I wasn’t serious.
“That’s definitely what everyone at ODI said about me,” he snorted, coasting to a stop at the end of the block.
“Hey.” I waited until Paul sent me a curious glance. “I think we already know that no one there bothered to get to know you,” I pointed out. “But if you’re a brat, I think we can safely say that I definitely have a preference for sweet brats.”
Paul’s smile was soft and trusting. “I’m starting to think that maybe you really do mean it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Paul
A cake would have been enough to make my twenty-first birthday the best I’d had since my Dad had passed. Bun’s car seat would have been more than enough of a gift for me for my birthday. The jaunty blue SUV was definitelymorethan enough for my birthday. But Sylas being Sylas, I should have suspected that he wasn’t done.
He definitely wasn’t.
We drove around until I started yawning, prompting Sylas to point out that I was missing my nap. When I pulled up into the driveway, I noticed immediately that something was, well, different.
“Um, Sylas?”
“Yes?”
“Why is your bed on the lawn with afreesign on it?”
“Hm,” Sylas made a noncommittal noise. “Maybe it’s a prank.”
Uh huh, sure. I narrowed my eyes at my Alpha, who snickered at my obvious disbelief.
“Maybe we should go in the house and see what’s up?”
Up in the master bedroom where the new lawn ornament used to be stood a new, king-size bed, our sheets and blankets neatly folded in the center under a remote control. I cocked my head at Sylas. “What is the remote for?”
Sylas gave me an unconvincingly blank look. “Not sure. Why don’t you check it out?”
I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re a terrible liar.” Picking up the remote, I studied the pictures on the remote-control buttons and my eyes started to tear up again. “You ordered an adjustable bed?”
“Maybe.” Sylas walked over to kiss my cheek. “It’s only going to get harder for you to sit up as Bun grows,” he explained. “This way, we won’t risk you hurting yourself getting out of bed.”
I turned into his arms, the remote still clutched in my fist. “You’re going to make it awfully hard for me to leave if you keep spoiling me.”
Instead of laughing, Sylas gathered me close. “I told you, I don’t want you to be in a hurry to leave,” he murmured in my ear. “Remember?”
I nearly choked on the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat before forcing a laugh. “You say that now.” I tried for a teasing tone, but there was too much emotion in it to be convincing.
“I sure do,” Sylas agreed, his deft fingers making short work of stripping my clothes from my body.
When he sank to his knees to untie my shoes, Sylas made my heart stutter by kissing my baby bump. Hearing the faintest whisper, I threaded my fingers through his soft hair and scratched lightly to get his attention.
“What did you say?”
“Mm,” Sylas nearly purred, tilting his head to shift my fingers to the other side of his head. “Not talking to you.”
I snorted. “You’re talking to my stomach but not to me?”
