Page 18 of Devil's Work: Dark

“It’s fine, Dark. I’m fine.”

“You will be.” He walks to the refrigerator to pull the bread, meat, cheese, and lettuce that I keep for him, along with the mayo. Then he sets to making a sandwich.

“No,” I shout, trying to stop him. He turns only his head, eyebrow raised. I sigh. “I have it segmented out… how much to feed you and the kids.”

That, apparently, was the wrong,wrongthing to say. He explodes. “You’re not eating to feed me and the kids?”

“Money is tight.” I feel the need to defend myself. “I told you that.”

“Fuck this fucking shit. I can’t believe you, woman. This proud bullshit ends now. I’m staying here, I’m buying the food and I’m paying for the air.”

“No—”

“Don’t you dare tell meno. You’re eating. Drinking fucking coffee and whatever the hell else I decide to bring into this house.”

The next thing I know, he slides a ham and cheese sandwich in front of me and stands over me with his arms crossed. “Eat,” he orders.

“Are you going to sit down?”

“Not if I have to force-feed you.”

“You don’t have to force-feed me. That would be wasteful.” To prove my point, I pick up the sandwich and take a big bite. Apparently confident that I’ll do as directed, and honestly, I couldn’t stop myself from eating that thing even if I wanted to, he walks over to the stove to get my dirty rice. Turning off the burner, he walks the pot over to me and dumps the rice on the plate he gave me with the sandwich.

“I need a fork,” I say. He walks to the drawer to get me a fork. It’s amazing how comfortable he’s become in my home. While I continue to eat, I swear instead of getting me a glass of ice water to drink, he pours some of the now cooled coffee from the coffee pot on the counter top into a glass, pours in milk, then goes to the pantry, where I told him I keep the Nesquik. He mixes the chocolate powder in the drink, adds ice, then walks it over to me.

“Don’t do that shit again,” he says as he sets the glass down next to my plate.

I wish he wouldn’t cross these lines. When he does us these kindnesses, it makes it hard for me to look at him as a biker and my bodyguard. I swear I caught him watching reruns ofAnimaniacswith Ty yesterday. But he is a biker and heismy bodyguard. He told me on the first day that he’s not nice. I owe him for his time and protection. I. Owe. Him. And I have to remember that. We aren’t friends. This is a working relationship.

The coffee drink makes me smile and sigh all the contented smiles. Every one. In the world. I go to take another bite and see that, without even realizing it, I’ve eaten every bite of food on my plate.

“You gonna watch a movie with me?” he asks.

I look at the time. “I have to get the kids ready for bed.”

“Listen, I got Ty. You get Baby Girl. It’ll go faster.”

Hm… He must really be worried about me because this behavior is new. “Do you know where his PJs are?”

“I can look in drawers, Rae. Or he can tell me. Either way, we’ll get it done.”

“But he likes me to read—”

He cuts me off. “Rae, go get the baby ready for bed.”

“Okay… Okay…” I take my plate to the sink. The glass goes with me. I drop it on a coaster on the coffee table in the living room before heading to Lacy’s room to get her ready for bed. I keep her door open, a baby gate blocking it off so she doesn’t get out of the room when I have things to get done and can’t keep a close eye on her. She loves her room and there’s nothing in there that a toddler can choke on. She loves her mat. That’s where I find her, playing on her mat. She reaches her tiny arms up to me and smiles.

“Muh,” she says. That’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Hey, baby girl.” I pick her up to give her smooches and hugs. “You tired?” I ask. She snuggles against my chest, nodding. Lacy gets a fresh diaper and these cute summer jammies. They’re pink cotton, the shorts and shirt have flowers on them, and the shirt snaps to the shorts to keep it from riding up. Then I lay her down in her crib and sing her the ‘goodnight’ lullaby until her eyes droop closed.

When I walk past Ty’s room, Dark is sitting on the side of his bed, reading Ty a book. I stand there listening, biting my lips shut when Ty asks Dark to do the voices and he actually tries. I have no idea why he didn’t just tell my son to shut up and listen. That’s how I’d expect him to react.

While I have time, I jog into my room to change into the purple cotton shorts and tank top that I sleep in, then hurry out to the living room. I’m sitting on the sofa sipping my coffee when Dark joins me. He walks over to the sofa, dropping down at the opposite end, and picks up the remote.

I’m disappointed that he doesn’t even glance at me. Why am I disappointed? So what if he’s mind-blowingly sexy? He’s bossy, he’s an ass a lot of the time, and he swears too much—says the woman who went swoony seeing him read to her kid.

We’re about ten minutes into our second film, an alien invasion movie, when an alert sounds from my phone. He pauses the movie while I read the alert. A severe weather alert is in effect for the entire county, so that’s great. And there’s a second alert.

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