Page 71 of Another Man’s Treasure

Ginger whines from somewhere in the kitchen, and I rise, looking toward her. She hops up onto the kitchen island, tail wagging as she looks between me and the fridge.

Joining her, I reach for the fridge door, shooting her a sorrowful look. “Baby girl, you know we don’t have any more burger pa⁠—”

The inside of the fridge is stocked with precut vegetables, apples, pears, cheese, and, holy shit, a bag of beef jerky. Her favorite kind too. She whines again.

I grab the jerky and open it, tossing a piece to her. She snatches it out of the air and gobbles it down, licking her lips once she’s done. Staring into the fridge, I marvel at the fact that Wild did this for us. He did this for me and her. Saint never did anything like that the entire time we dated.

I’ve got to stop comparing them. There is no comparison, none at all.

Back in the living room, I reach down and tickle my spade up the front of his shirt. “Wild, baby, let’s go to bed, okay?”

He rumbles awake, reaching down to clap his hand over where my spade rests beneath his shirt. A smile curves his lips as he blinks slowly awake. His free hand caresses my jawline. “Work okay? Nobody bothered you?”

Chuckling, I nuzzle into his palm. “Between Lemon, Bluebell and you peeking in the window, nobody bothered me at all.”

Another thing added to my Real Things I Know About Wilder list. He’s a peeping tom in the cutest of ways.

He shakes his head. “Lies. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t peek through any windows.” His head falls back against the sofa, and his eyes flutter closed. He’s barely awake.

“Don’t sleep on the couch, baby,” I croon, reaching for his hand.

When he grumbles and snuggles against the sofa cushion, I chuckle. He might be smaller than me, but gargoyles are strong. Leaning forward, I pull him into my arms, flaring my wings wide to help balance me out.

Wild’s eyes dart open, and he stares up at me, frozen. “Did you just pick me up, Oz?”

I round the corner and walk slowly toward the back hall, where my bedroom is. “Mhm. I’m very strong, if you must know.”

“I can walk.”

I smile down at him. “Turns out I like carrying you, so maybe just let me?”

He shakes his head and wriggles so hard I’m forced to let him go. Standing, he rises a full foot above me, dragging his knuckles along my jawline. “Let me, please.”

Hopping up into his arms, I look into those sultry eyes. “I’ve never had anyone insist like that.”

He growls as he continues to my bedroom, dropping me carefully into the nest. “Let me guess, Saint Stupidhead Ashbourne made you carry him everywhere?”

Scooching up against the headboard, I shake my head. “I never picked him up, not once. He’d have said it wasn’t manly or some shit. Or made a joke about me being smaller.”

Wild falls on top of me then rolls us, threading my legs through his, our faces tucked close together. “Fuck him, and I’m sorry I made you put me down. I just…didn’t want you to feel you had to carry me, metaphorically too, I suppose. I like taking care of you, Oz.”

“I like taking care of you too.” I nuzzle his fingers. “When I came home and saw you here, I thought my heart started beating all on its own.”

It’s an admission I probably shouldn’t make so soon. It’ll scare him, or who knows what. Regret flashes through me as my mind scatters around how to take it back, or brush it off, or…

Wild growls and presses his lips to mine. “You wanna bite me and feel that heart start, don’t you, Oz? You know, when we said we wanted this to be real, it’s because some part of us knew it was…”

Gasping, I pull back to stare at him. For a long moment, it’s just the quiet of my nest and the heat between us, the silence of my home at a godsawful time of morning.

And Wilder. Wilder Fucking Lane, who I’ve fallen in love with against all odds. That’s what this is. It’s the only word that comes close to encompassing what he means to me.

“I do,” I manage, the words slipping quietly from me because I’m terrified to put my full voice behind them.

He rolls me on top of him, sliding one hand down to grip my ass while the other tangles in my hair, pulling it from its high bun. When the strands tangle down around his face, he sighs, a happy sound I definitely need more of.

“We don’t have to rush this if you’re not ready,” he says, “but I’m…I’m not good at sharing my feelings, Oz. I’ve never been good at it. You’ve got me all tied up. All I think about is you. That’s…never happened to me before.”

“I’m trying not to worry about it being fast,” I admit. “I’m more focused on letting you see who I really am, because if you don’t enjoy the real me, it’s better to know now, right?”