Page 62 of I Knead You Tonight

“Seriously?” she groans. “This is takingforever.”

“Hey, he’s doing it in his spare time, and for cheap. It’ll be done when it’s done. Besides, you have room and board and a ride in the meantime. It’s not a big deal.”

“I just hate being a leech.”

“No, you’re just stubborn and don’t want to accept help.”

“Exactly—being a leech.”

“Two totally different things, but whatever,” I say. “As soon as it’s done, I’ll let you know.”

“Fine. I’m hitting the shower. Taking an extra-long one, by the way. Gonna enjoy this hot water while I have it.”

She disappears into my bedroom, shutting herself into the bathroom.

“Your mother is crazy,” I whisper to Riker. “Absolutely insane.” He giggles. “But we like her anyway, huh?”

He giggles again, and the sound makes me smile.

I turn back to the TV, settling into the comfy couch I no longer have to sleep on.

Since Drew and I have been sharing a bed, it’s the best streak of good sleep I’ve had in ages, which is surprising because I haven’t taken a single hit of weed since I was a complete tool to her.

At first, it was because I was afraid of what my loose lips would let fly if I smoked again. I hadn’t realized the fog I was living in, so wrapped up in the way the high chased the pain away. When I hurt Drew, when I said those awful things to her and saw the way they broke her, it made me realize maybe the weed was making me a different person, and it was a version of me I didn’t like.

Weed affects people differently, and apparently it doesn’t just make me lazy—it makes me an ass.

Then there’s the kiss.

The one that made me soar.

It was better than any high marijuana can give me.

I haven’t felt that good in a long fucking time, and I want to feel it again.

So I’ve been powering through, ignoring the growing throbs in my shoulder and back and riding the high of the memory of Drew’s kiss—just the memory, because much to my chagrin, our lips haven’t touched again.

It’s not because I haven’t wanted to or we haven’t had the opportunity, but because I want to be sure Drew is kissing me because she wants to kissmeand not justsomeone.

I laugh at something Patrick says, and Riker giggles like he gets it too.

He’s four months old now, and I swear he’s getting bigger every time I look at him.

“Was that funny?” I ask, lifting him onto my lap so I can bounce him on my knee. “Did Patrick say something funny? Is he goofy? Is he—oh fuck. What the hell is that smell? Jesus fuck!”

I gag, and Riker laughs again.

“You little…” I push up off the couch, holding him away from me at arm’s length, and grab the changing pad from the diaper bag.

I’m getting way too used to changing shitty diapers lately.

I get him situated on it, snap the tabs off, and peel back the loaded diaper like the fucking pro I am.

Only there’s no shit.

He just fartedreallyfucking bad.

I frown down at him. “You little fibber. You didn’t shit.” He laughs, and I tickle his belly. “You just have gas. What a little stinker. You—”

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