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CHAPTER TWELVE
___________________________
OKAY
JUDGE
“DID YOU GO shopping for Sunday yet?”
“I’m going this afternoon,” Swedes told me. “Need to add to the list?”
“I’ll see what O wants.”
He didn’t look surprised. “She know she’s coming with?”
“Not yet.”
Raising his brows, he stood and muttered, “Now’s your chance.”
Looking over my shoulder, I saw Ophelia standing in the family room doorway. Her hair was messy, her shoulders were slouched, and she looked exhausted and hungover.
But still so fuckin’ beautiful.
Trudging over, I thought she’d take her seat next to me—or shove breakfast off the table and climb up to sleep there. But when she reached me, she nudged at my shoulder until I pushed my chair back.
Then, proving I could spend every damn day of my life with her and still not know what to expect, she climbed onto my lap.
Resting her head on my chest, she reached her arm toward the table. I didn’t catch on fast enough, so she wiggled her fingers.
I took a stab in the dark and put my coffee cup in her waiting hand.
It was the right choice.
Only moving enough to take a sip, she gave a soft moan and sigh.
Tonight.
Tonight it’ll be me making her make those noises.
Unless she freaks about the travel plans, and I spend the night protecting my balls and guarding the exit.
“Gotta talk—” I started before she reached up and covered my mouth.
“Too loud. And can you tell your heartbeat to quiet down, too?”
My lips moved against her fingers, muffling my words. “Not when you’re around.”
“No being sweet when a marching band and mariachi band are having a battle in my head.”
“Hungover?”
She barely moved her head to nod.
“Hungry?” I asked.
Her nod was a little bigger for that.
Before I could ask what she wanted, Swedes came back, the smell of greasy bacon filling the room. He set a plate of bacon, eggs, and hash in front of us before handing her pain meds and the big cup that’d become hers.
