“My new father-in-law is no bullshit. I like it.”
“I take it you and your guys are headed to Reno?”
He grins.
“I’ll send you a deepest sympathies bouquet as soon as I kill the fucker.”
“Make sure you make it hurt,” I say.
I’ve never been the one to get my hands dirty like Finn or Declan, but for the man who wanted to hurt my Omega, who had nefarious plans for her future? I could kill him with a clear conscience.
“Maybe my new little wife will enjoy torturing him for you,” he grins, and I shake my head.
We shake hands and leave the restaurant.
“Let’s hope that poor girl likes crazy,” Declan sighs.
I shrug my shoulders. “She could do worse than an obsessive Russian psychopath.”
Declan blinks at me like I’m an idiot. I ditched the cane for this meeting, and I regret it as we drive home.
“Glass, in the nest? What the fuck was I thinking?” Elena grumbles to herself as she stands on the stepstool and takes the teal vases off the shelves above her nest bed.
The room looks completely different from the last time I saw it. Besides there being ten times more stuff in here, it feels softer, homier.
“Need help?” I say it softly so I don’t startle her.
She holds out the glass for me, and I put it in the box on the floor.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. One rough fuck and all of this could come tumbling over and knock one of us unconscious.” She sighs, looking at the vintage glassware.“Though it is pretty, it goes with the room so well.”
“We could put a shelf over by the kitchenette?” I suggest, and she grins.
“Do you know how to use a drill, too?”
My brows furrow, and I nod. “Yes.”
She hums and keeps handing me glass pieces that I place into the box.
“Have you been working on the room all day?”
“Do you like it? It’s not bad, is it? It’s not too much?”
“It’s perfect,” I tell her.
“Almost. It doesn’t smell right, and we need to fill the kitchen with food. Also, I need bath bombs.”
She climbs down the stepladder. I keep one hand on the ladder and one on her lower back, making sure she doesn’t hurt herself.
“Where’s your cane?”
“Don’t need it,” I lie.
Her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth, and she shakes her head.
“Sit,” she demands, pointing at the odd-looking teal chair.
“Where did this come from?”
