Page 166 of Whispers and Wildfire

She pulled a jar of pickles out of the fridge and opened the lid.

“Really?” I asked. “First thing?”

“It’s midmorning. This is a brunch pickle.”

I made a face. “A brunch pickle?”

She took a bite. “It’s a thing.”

“I don’t think it is, but you do you, baby.”

“I should probably put some pants on.”

My brow furrowed. “Why would you do that?”

“How long do you think it’ll be until people start stopping by? And by people, I mostly mean my parents.”

“We saw them yesterday.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

I shrugged and poured our coffee.

When we’d arrived in Tilikum after our ordeal, I’d wanted nothing more than to fall into bed with Melanie and shut out the world. But there were people who loved her too who needed to see her—hug her and see for themselves that she was all right.

We took our coffee—and her jar of pickles—to the couch, and she nestled against me. I kissed her hair and leaned my face against her head, just breathing in the moment. She was there. She was safe. She was with me.

And I was never going to let her go.

Not like the psycho who’d taken her. He’d wanted to chain her up, hold her captive. I wanted her free—free to be the chaotic, dramatic mess I loved so much.

Free, and also mine.

My phone buzzed with a text. Somewhat reluctantly, I reached over to the coffee table to check it. It was Garrett asking if he could stop by. I replied that it was fine.

“I guess you should put on pants.” I stroked her bare thigh a few times. “But I don’t have to like it.”

She laughed a little. “You can probably talk me into taking them off later.”

“Your wish is my command.”

“My every whim is your command,” she said in herQueen Ione voice as she got up from the couch.

“That probably shouldn’t turn me on, but it’s so hot when you’re an evil queen.”

“I’ll allow you to please me later,” she said, still using the voice. “For now, I have duties to attend to.”

Grinning, I shook my head and adjusted myself as she sauntered to the bedroom. If Garrett hadn’t been on his way over, I would have followed her.

She came back a short time later, dressed in my T-shirt and joggers, her dark hair down. We’d cleaned off most of the duct tape residue, but there was still redness around her wrists from being bound. I drew her back onto the couch and kissed the insides of her wrists a few times.

There was a knock on the door, so I got up to answer it. Garrett was dressed in street clothes, carrying a pink Angel Cakes Bakery box. He came inside and took off his aviators.

“Sorry to bug you guys,” he said as I closed the door behind him. “But Harper sent cookies.”

I took the box and set it on the coffee table, then took my seat next to Melanie. “It’s fine. Are you here on official business or just checking in?”

He sat in the armchair. “Both. I wanted you to hear it from me. The suspect did not survive the crash.”

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