Page 136 of If Love Had A Manual

We just... smile.

His mouth curves as he shoots me a wink and says, “She’s got her attitude, too.”

“She’s precious,” Denise adds, scanning our final item. “Y’all make a beautiful family.”

Family.

I guess in some dysfunctional way, we are.

We manage to pay and escape to the front of the store, where Rosie immediately starts fussing over the balloon we picked up along the way and tied to the bag. I bend to untangle it, but so does Wes.

I stand too fast, and my forehead collides with his chin with a sickening thud.

“Shit—ow!”

“Jesus, woman!”

We both stagger.

Rosie screeches.

Milo barks.

Eyes watering, he grabs my face, inspecting me. “Are you bleeding?”

“No, are you?” I wince, hand on Wes’s jaw, tipping his face toward the light.

“No, but I think you dislocated my jaw. I’ll never eat solids again.”

“You’re such a baby.”

He glares, rubbing his chin. “I take back every nice thing I said in the paint aisle.”

I lean in and nudge him. “Even the part where you said I bring out your color adventurous side?”

“Especially that.”

Grabbing my face again, he presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head where I’m sure there’s a bump developing.

By the time we wrangle the kid, the dog, and the paint into the car, we’re both slightly winded. Wes opens the passenger door for me like a gentleman, and then immediately steals the last bite of my granola bar from the cupholder.

“I was saving that,” I say flatly, buckling in. “You’re sleeping on the ugly couch.”

“You mean the one you forced me to buy?”

My jaw drops, offended. He knows that’s not the one I’m talking about.

“Fine,” he agrees. “I’ll stain it on purpose.”

“I’ll stainyouon purpose.”

“Promise?”

I shove him, but he grins like the smug bastard heis, then backs out of the parking space as Rosie babbles something from the backseat that sounds suspiciously likeMilo poop.

Milo, for the record, looks completely unrepentant.

Fifty-Two

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