Page 125 of Wicked Intentions (Wicked Games 3)
“Huh,” I say, inspecting it. “Looks like a big comma to me.”
Darcy snorts. “Don’t tell my baby that,” she says, voice lowered. “He thinks he’s the next Michelangelo. You should see his paintings.”
“That bad?” Mariana asks.
“They look like somebody gave a hyperactive five-year-old child a box of crayons and told him to draw the contents of his stomach.”
I look at Mariana. “Forget about the rolls, now I’m worried about the turkey.”
“There they are!”
Kai’s happy greeting—zere zey are!—comes from across the loft. He’s in the kitchen, wearing an orange apron and one of those tall chef’s hats. Also orange, because it’s Kai.
“Come in! Come in!” He waves at us with a spatula. “You’re just in time for the schnitzel!”
“Goody,” I say under my breath.
Darcy laughs. “Don’t worry, Ryan, he’s not much of an artist, but he actually can cook!”
I help Mariana remove her coat and drape it over a nearby chair, then scold, “Wait for me!” as she turns and starts to follow Darcy toward the kitchen. I take her elbow, wind my arm around her waist, and usher her inside, all the while listening to her grouse about overprotective cavemen.
“Get used to it, Angel, ’cause it’s only gonna get worse once the bean gets here.”
“Hmm. I almost feel sorry for this kid. He has no idea how many GPS trackers he’ll have attached to his body the minute he pops out.”
“Her body,” I say with utmost confidence. “Don’t gimme that look, woman. The bean is a girl!”
“Oh, really? And how do you know that?”
“Same way I know everything else.” I wink at her and tap my temple.
“Is he bragging about his big brain again?” Connor asks from the purple sofa in the living room.
He’s sitting with his arm slung around Tabby’s shoulders. Juanita’s sitting cross-legged on the floor at their feet with a bunch of open schoolbooks strewn around, chewing a pencil and absentmindedly scratching the belly of Elvis the rat, who’s sleeping on his back between the pages of a textbook. On the wall across from them, a flat-screen TV is turned to a news channel.
“I don’t need to brag. My big brain speaks for itself.”
Connor and I grin at each other. He and Tabby stand up, and we all share hugs.
“Careful, brother!” I bark when Connor squeezes Mariana, his biceps bulging.
He pulls away with a sigh and looks into Mariana’s eyes. “He’s gonna be like this for the next five months, isn’t he?”
“Oh no,” Mariana says with a straight face. “He’s going to be like this forever.”
“Heya, short stuff.” I nod at Juanita, who’s looked up from her books. “Whatcha’ doin’?”
She pushes a lock of curly brown hair away from her face. “Just finishing up some extra credit for a class.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the class?”
“Topological spaces and the fundamental group.”
I blink. Is that like…gardening?
When she sees my blank look, she explains. “It’s the advanced geometry and topology stream of the one-hundred-level math curriculum at the new school I’m transferring to in the spring.”
I try to look like I have a clue about what she just said. “Cool. So no more Catholic school?”
