Page 94 of Not Mine to Rescue

I shouldn’t. Stephen’s nudge to not turn down an invitation raised its ugly head. “Are you sure you want your club’s lawyer killing the mood?”

He smiled. “You might have fun. It’s for Saint Patrick’s Day. The ol’ ladies went all out.”

“Old ladies…?”

“That’s a term of affection. Like…” Whatever he was going to say trailed off.

“Say it.”

He grimaced. “You won’t like it. Any of it.”

That was a challenge. “Lay it on me.”

“You asked for it. And I suppose you’d better hear it from me first before some idiot slurs it in your face. Let’s start with, ’sweet butt.’ That’s for women in general. Especially if they’ve got an ass.” His eyes dipped.

“And?”

“There’s sweet tits and babe, which I know you don’t like.”

True.

“And Little Mama.” He braced.

“Why do they say that?”

“Because it elevates the woman from someone they want to fuck into someone they’d like to have kids with.”

Interesting. A little blip of anger and other emotions broke free, and I shoved it away. “And Old Ladies?”

“Ol’ ladies. Most of them ain’t old when they start being one, but yeah. Ol’ ladies are the women you want to grow old with.” He hid his face right after he glanced at my eyes.

“It’s a hierarchy. Correct?”

His nod grew more certain. “You’re definitely ol’ lady material.” He licked his lips and met my eyes straight on.

“I am? I would think Sweet Butt or—” I couldn’t say it.

“No. Even if you can’t have kids.”

I was missing something. “What are you saying?”

He blew out a breath. “I’m saying even if you aren’t pregnant or can’t stay pregnant, I want you. I’ll want you for a long time.”

Oddly, his words didn’t move me. I parsed through them like they were witness testimony. My emotions were so detached I couldn’t feel anymore. I didn’t want to feel. And that was the hardest part of this. He wanted. I didn’t.

No.

To be truthful. I wouldn’t…feel. Because if I did, I’d be opening myself up to the one thing that would kill me.

Or make me wish I were dead.

There was only one thing to do. Lie. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll go.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Wombat

Logistics weren’t my strongest skill, but when it came to talking Honoria out of her car keys so I could slip behind the wheel of her mineral gray BMW, I was a savant.