–Mom: I’m keeping an eye on you. For obvious reasons!
Yeah right. She’s just upset I declined to go blow the brains out of somebody of her—well, the government’s—choosing.
–Me: He’s new and I wanted to make sure he was okay. I just got a weird feeling from him.
–Mom: He’s probably wary and not doing a good job of hiding his nerves around you. He’s trained to kill. Or maybe he’s wondering what the hell he was doing overseas, sacrificing himself to protect somebody like you. You can lay it on too thick at times, so much so that even I feel embarrassed to say you’re my son.
She’s probably rolling her eyes, while spinning a knife between her fingers to relieve tension.
–Me: Still not going. I’ve rearranged my priorities.
A moment of silence.
–Mom: You can’t quit.
–Me: Nobody does this forever.
–Mom: You’re too young.
–Me: Bobbi wants to have babies. You could be a grandmother.
–Mom: That’s disgusting.
–Me: You’d be able to make Nikki insanely jealous…
Mom despises Nicholas’s mom. Calls her too fickle. Unreliable. Annoying. Poor Nikki has no clue, though. She’s under the impression that Mom adores her, the belief encouraged by my mother who has a policy of being friendly to everyone because you never know when you might need to use them.
–Me: I can’t talk to you now anyway. I have to cook.
–Mom: Cook? As in, prepare food? There are no sanctioned targets in the city.
–Me: Very funny. Now go away before I do something to the pasta and kill someone. Think of the paperwork!!!
Chapter Twenty-Six
Noah
My Saturday couldn’t start better than waking up to the muted pounding of the Pacific waves and the soft sound of Bobbi’s breathing. The room’s dark from the blackout curtains, and she’s taking advantage and continuing to sleep. Bobbi in my arms, in my bed, is a dream come true. I can’t believe I didn’t know this was exactly what I wanted until now.
It’s been a week since I made my case to Bobbi. We’ve been staying at her place since it’s easier for her to make the commute from Sherman Oaks than Malibu. Our routine is simple. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, tells me to keep sleeping, and heads to the shower. I get up anyway and prep a tumbler full of fresh coffee, then hand it to her with a kiss and a cheery “Have a great day!” and wave goodbye as her Tacoma peels out from the driveway.
After coffee and a simple breakfast, I take flowers to her bakery around ten after the crazy rush of carb-desperate commuters is over. I started with white calla lilies—which she kept this time, much to my satisfaction—and to vary things a little, I bring pink roses, purple Thai orchids, white and pink peonies and lavender hyacinths depending on the day. The smile she gives me is the greatest reward, along with cupcakes that are like the cherry topping on a sundae…even though they aren’t croissants. She’ll offer those when she’s ready—and she’s truly forgiven me.
I regard her lying next to me on the bed. Although I acted shamelessly to get her to agree to give me a chance, there’s no question that I treated her badly before. If the situation were reversed, I might’ve shot me dead on the spot. The plain fact is that Bobbi’s heart is softer than I deserve. I have a lot to make up for. Which includes taking care of Señor Mittens, who was there for her when I wasn’t.
After visiting the bakery, I return to her place to play with the cat and feed His Feline Majesty a feast fit for the Prince of Wales. Although he regards me with the usual cat-like disdain, the little kitty loves me, I can tell. And he came through when I needed him the most.
Thinking of this reminds me of Bobbi throwing me down…which honestly was hot as hell.
My cock stirs. I shift closer and bury my nose in the warm silken tangle of her hair. Her feminine scent never fails to excite me. I could live to be a hundred, and she’d still be the only woman to inflame me like this.
I run my hand gently over her sweet curves, my blood starting to simmer. She thinks her body isn’t particularly sexy because she doesn’t have giant tits or massively flaring hips, but the strength in her lean muscles is more erotic than any breast could ever be.
My phone buzzes behind me, rattling against the night stand.Shit. I quickly reach over and grab it, praying the sound didn’t wake Bobbi up.Mom again. I slide my finger over the red, cutting it off. A text pops up.
–Mom: This isn’t funny.
Neither is your calling me early Saturday morning. She’s been hassling me since Wednesday to go kill some terrorist. You’d think I was the only sniper left in the country.
