Page 44 of Property of Bones

“Think of… math!” Riley calls helpfully from the doorway.

“Are youkidding me?” I squeak out.

Too late.

“Aaah-choo!”

Agony.

White-hot, searing pain slices through my chest. I make a sound I’m pretty sure only banshees and dying possums make.

“Breathe, baby, breathe,” Jack murmurs, adjusting his hold, and pressing a kiss to my temple. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Youliar,” I wheeze. “I saw the light.”

Spike winces. “Let’s get her inside before something else causes her to sneeze.”

***Bones***

“What do you mean you don’t own a TV?”

Shaking my head, I tuck the blanket tighter around my new burden. “Waste of time,” I mutter.

“It is most definitelynota waste of time,” she argues. “Movies are therapy. Like, actual soul-soothing, heart-hugging therapy.I can’t just sit in this room with no TV. That’s psychological warfare.”

I grunt, shaking my head. “I’ve got books.”

Her eyes light up like I just told her I had a litter of puppies hiding under the seat. “Really? What kind?”

I fight the smirk crawling up my face. “The kind with words in ‘em.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, and damn if that doesn’t make my chest feel tight. “You don’t say. That narrows it down toevery book ever written. Are we talking thrilling crime novels? Broody biker memoirs? Spicy romance with surprise weddings and shirtless cowboys?”

I huff a laugh. She’s ridiculous. And somehow, perfect.

“Mostly classics,” I admit. “Some history. War stuff. Poetry. A few cookbooks Patch gave me that I’ve never opened.”

Her mouth drops open in mock horror. “You mean you’renota biker chef? What a tragic waste of potential.”

“I grill,” I say with a shrug.

She gasps like I just announced I’d climbed Everest. “Yougrill? Oh no. A man of mysteryandmeat.”

I shake my head, but I’m not even trying to hide the grin now. She could make sunshine blush, this woman. And somehow, she’s looking at me like I hung the damn moon.

God help me. I think I’m gone for her.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” I mutter, even though my chest is damn near warm from just looking at her.

She grins, all sunshine and zero remorse. “A pain in the buttwithoutmotion picture entertainment.”

I arch a brow. “You always censor yourself?”

“I’m injured, not uncivilized,” she says primly, then immediately ruins it by wiggling her brows. “Now warm that voice up, book boy. I’m gonna need entertainment if we’re skipping TV.”

I groan, but I already know I’d read her every damn book on my shelf if it means I get to see that smile again.

“I’ll go and get you a TV tomorrow,” I mutter, shaking my head like I’m annoyed, even though I’m not. Not even close. “Here, take these.”

---