Page 122 of Playing With Danger

“Only twice?” I gasped. “A spider on the ceiling is grounds for burning the house down.”

“Yes, well, I did suggest that but Nathan informed me arson isn’t covered under our policy. He felt it would be safer to get a ladder and kill it. Of course that meant I witnessed his kiss with death as he climbed on the death contraption. It was an ordeal I’d rather not re-live.”

I watch my mom flounce out of the living room.

I did this with a newfound respect. The woman could flounce; I was totally adding that to my dramatic exit repertoire.

The unfortunate result of my mom being amusing meant I forgot I was still recovering from six stab wounds and my stomach muscles weren’t ready for strenuous activity which most definitely consisted of me busting out a laugh.

Something I did right then.

And I didn’t regret a moment of the pain it caused.

32

Three months later…

“You know size matters,” I mumbled.

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” Liberty asked from beside me.

“Please, for my sake do not answer that,” Shiloh begged.

I watched as Phoenix easily blocked another ball from going near the rim.

The three of us were sitting on the bleachers watching the guys play basketball at the Hope Center. Phoenix’s wife, Wren, had watched her husband and son play the first quarter but she had something to do in one of the computer rooms so now it was just me, Shiloh, and Liberty.

“I was speaking about Phoenix’s height,” I clarified. “But indeed, I have?—”

“Stop right there,” Shiloh grouched.

I kept my eyes on the court, or more specifically on Valentine and the sweat-drenched t-shirt molded to his chest and torso, leaving very little to the imagination. Not that I needed to imagine what my man looked like without his clothes on. Thankfully, those memories were all stitched together into one, long, continuous highlight reel of goodness.

Though it felt like an eternity since I’d had the pleasure to experience all that goodness.

Valentine’s concern for my ongoing recovery would’ve been sweet if it wasn’t to the point of torture. To say the sweet had worn off weeks ago would be an understatement.

“Is there a reason you’re scowling at the court?” Liberty asked.

“I’m not scowling. I’m attempting to send subliminal sexy messages to Valentine.”

“By scowling?”

“I’m concentrating,” I corrected.

“You look constipated,” Shiloh put in. “You should try smiling. It might work better.”

She was probably right.

“I never thought I’d say this because my man is a master when it comes to his mouth but?—”

“You’ve already said too much,” Shiloh stopped me.

“Sorry. I’m used to blurting stuff out.”

Where was Hayden when I needed him?

On that thought my gaze drifted to my best friend. After two months of actively avoiding me I threw a hissy fit to end all hissy fits and he started coming over to the house for dinner. It took another drama for him to stop pussy-footing around me. I suspected it was a show but things were back to normal, or a new normal, since we were no longer roommates. But he was at the house at least twice a week, and he and Valentine regularly played basketball together and on a few occasions had gone out to shoot pool without me. I knew those were the times when Valentine was pulling Hayden’s head out of his ass.

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