Page 13 of If I Didn’t Have You

“No sex,” I retorted.

“That’s not a problem. There are plenty of ladies chomping at the bit to get to me.”

“No, they’re not,” I laughed. “Name one woman who’s chasing you around town.”

“Plenty of them, Pop. Just you wait. One day, you’ll be coming to me, asking if you can use my spare bedroom because Ma is driving you crazy. I’m just counting down the days.”

“First, that’s your mother you’re speaking about. Second, the day I ask to stay with you is the day your mother divorces me. And third…” I slapped him upside the head. “You’re an idiot.”

Wincing, he rubbed the back of his head. “There’s no need to get violent. I was shot recently, you know.”

“Trust me, I know. I also know that if you don’t find a woman soon, your mother is going to do your laundry for the rest of your life. That’s not a good look, whether you have a woman or not. And I also know that you can’t cook worth a damn, which means that you’ll starve when your mother decides she no longer wants to cook for you.”

“Hey, I know how to do laundry. She just likes to do it for me. And I won’t ever starve because I know how to open a can of beans.”

“So… you won’t starve because you’ll have beans, but you won’t have any women because…all you’ll eat is beans.” I gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I think you might have your priorities mixed up.”

5

CLARA

I grabbed the deer head off the wall, nearly tipping over from the weight of it. Who knew these things were so freaking heavy? I teetered with it to the door, adjusting here and there as I tried to fit it through the damn doorway, until finally, I made it. The antlers scratched the wall on the way down the hall, but that mattered little to me since the whole house was getting a makeover.

Finally, I made it to the back door and hefted the thing as high as I could, tossing it on the ground.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Ben came running over, his voice filled with horror. “Woman, what in the hell are you doing?”

“Cleaning house,” I grinned.

“Fine, clean the house. Clean the whole damn thing, but my bucks stay on the wall!”

I thrust my fists on my hips, glowering at my husband. “Benjamin Parker, I will not look at those beady eyes for one more minute!”

“You don’t have to! Just close your eyes! Problem solved!”

“I can’t very well close my eyes when I’m painting.”

“Painting?” His face twisted in confusion.

I may have forgotten to inform him of my plans.

“Or writing.”

“What the hell are you gonna write?”

“A book,” I grinned. “It’s going to be amazing.”

“Since when do you write?”

My smile dropped into a scowl. “Since today. Well, probably next week since I still have to paint the room.”

A frown appeared as he thought it over, then realized what I meant, and that frown quickly turned into a scowl. “Now, hold on a minute⁠—”

“You hold on a minute, Benjamin Parker!”

“Would you stop last naming me?” he snapped.

“I need a place to write⁠—”