Page 24 of I Knead You Tonight

“Because I’m secretly a nice guy.”

“Under all that grump? Bullshit.”

“Can’t you just let it the fuck go and accept it?” I growl.

“Fine. But I’m still suspicious of you.”

“Fine.”

We resume our silence and I light up my joint again, thinking she’ll walk away from the stench of it.

She stays.

“It’s beautiful tonight,” she comments.

“It really is. Wish I had my camera right now, but I’m too lazy to go grab it.”

“You, lazy? Never,” she mocks with just enough bitterness in her tone that I can’t tell if she’s teasing or not. “Do you shoot often?”

“Every morning.”

“Seriously?” I don’t have to glance at her to know her brows are probably into her hairline. “You get up every morning and take photos?”

“Yep.”

I don’t elaborate, because it’s none of her business what I do in my free time, and because I don’t like sharing my hobby with others.

She drops it.

“Does the father ever come around?” I ask, flipping the tables on her as a distraction.

Pot gives me loose lips, and I’d rather not talk about me and start spilling feelings and shit.

“Chadwick?” She wrinkles her nose, frowning. “No. I haven’t heard from him since I was three months along. He was half-ass there and then he wasn’t there at all. I didn’t bother trying to get him involved when it was clear he didn’t want to be.”

“Did he even reach out when Riker was born?” I take another hit, waiting for her answer.

“Not even a text.”

“Is that really a bad thing though?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I mean, on one hand, I’m glad he’s not around because I’m so fucking angry at him and the way he reacted when I found out I was pregnant. On the other, I want Riker to have a father figure. I didn’t get the chance to grow up with one and look how I turned out.”

I huff out a laugh, the smoke trailing around us. “Stubborn. Obnoxious. Strong. Independent. Yeah, those are all real shit qualities to have.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say somethingniceabout me?”

I point at her. “I called you stubborn and obnoxious too.”

“Yeah, but you like me.”

“I tolerate you on a good day.”

“Uh-huh,” she singsongs. “Youlikeme.”

I take a long step toward her, and because the deck is so small, I can feel her chest brush against mine as her breaths quicken.

She looks so small and fragile staring up at me with big, brown eyes. With the moonlight shining down, they almost look like bourbon.

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