Page 66 of Rescued By the Alien Bull Rider

“Well I certainly cannot ‘magically float you over’ as previously suggested” he said dryly. “Stop complaining and let me do this for you.”

“OK. Well. Thank you,” I said, relaxing in his hold. I rested my cheek against his chest, which was no longer bandaged but now had ropy lines of tissue that would probably become scars. “Why didn’t you use some of that snazzy nano stuff for this?” I asked.

“Are you saying that my perfect sutures were not sufficient?”

“No, you dork! I just mean… I feel bad I got to heal basically instantly meanwhile you’ve got these painful-looking scars.”

“That medication was for you. I would not have dreamed of wasting it on something as paltry as this. And my hand healed well already, so it did not hinder my surgical abilities.”

“I’m not talking about your surgical abilities. I’m talking about you!”

“They are one and the same.”

“No, they’re not!” I cried, glaring at the underside of his hard jaw. “You’re more than just a surgeon, Zohro.”

“I suppose you are right,” he admitted, casting me a wry look. “I am also a convicted murderer.”

“You’re more than that, too. You’re more than that to me.”

“Am I?”

We had reached the house, but he didn’t carry me in. He paused on the porch and held me, his gaze both guarded and searching.

“Well, of course,” I stammered, flustered. “And… And you’re more than that to Autumn!”

Nice one, Jolene. Using a literal baby as a shield.

“To Autumn… I see.” He finally put me down.

Inside the house, Zohro told me he was going to the cellar to get me something to eat. I went on ahead into the bedroom without him, carrying Autumn. When I saw our bed, I practically started drooling.

The little cot thing in the Surgery Shed had been fine for a few nights of fitful sleep. But a real bed…

It was calling to me.

Autumn was asleep for the moment. Maybe I could just lie down for a few minutes and close my eyes.

I just had to put Autumn down and-

Shit.

Where was I going to put her?!

In the shed, she’d always been sleeping on one of us, and we’d essentially worked in shifts.

I didn’t have a cradle or a crib.

Between my topsy-turvy hormones and the cruelty of my nap being so close and getting brutally ripped away, I burst into tears that took me entirely by surprise.

Bootsteps thundered through the house. Zohro exploded into the room, eyes blazing.

“What is it?” he asked, crossing to me in floor-swallowing strides.

“What am I doing, Zohro?” I sobbed. “I don’t even have a place for her to sleep!”

His white eyes narrowed, then swept over the room. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have a crib! Or a bassinet or a cradle… Or even a little basket! She needs to sleep somewhere other than the floor, or in our tiny bed where one of us might squish her!” I wanted to wipe my face, but my arms were full with the still-sleeping baby who had no idea how much her mom was currently melting down. “Why did I think that I could do this?”

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