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378 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 14, 2016
"You know Gatlin and I are just friends. Why would it bother you?"
"Because I have a dick, you're my woman and I don't want you depending on another man for a God damn thing. That's my job. Anything and everything you need? That's all me, baby. And you can't say this is one of my macho things, 'cause he knew it too."
"Anyone ever told you it's creepy to always be sneaking up on people?" I ask in a chilled tone.
"So walking across the yard, in broad daylight, is that where the sneaking part came in?" He [Gatlin] cocks his head and challanges me with a gring. "Guess I always pictured sneaking with more tucks and rolls, some crouching. Maybe a Bond theme music playing in the background."
I turn my head so he doesn't see my mouth twitch.
"Next time I'll walk straight up the driveway, screaming and waving my hands, I promise."
"Henley Calvert, I could ask you the same damn question. In fact, I'm askin'. What'd I ever do to you, besides always looking out for you and treat you like a queen?"
"Hen, if I ever honk at you rather than come up to get you. walk with you, and open your door, either my legs are broken, or I've had a stroke. Or both, 'cause I shouldn't be driving if both my legs are broken. So call 9-1-1 immediately. You're a lady. My lady. And you will always be treated as such."
If you loved someone, what wouldn't you do for them? If your house caught fire, would you sit on the sidewalk and wait for the firemen to arrive, knowing your other half was still trapped inside? Or would you go back in and die with them, die trying to save them?"
His answer is automatic, a reverent promise said while his gaze locked with mine stays steady. "If I loved someone you'd find us with out fingers melted together, because I'd be right beside her, holding her hand, to the very end."
"And just so you know, this is not a negotiation, Keaton. This is a bitchtatorship. I'm the bitch, especially in my own house, and I'm demanding you leave!"
"I assure you, Darlin', my trigger is anything but quick. In fact, you'll squeeze yours off multiple times before I even cock back my hammer."
"You're also a stubborn smartass," he grunts. "I'll break ya one of these days. Can't wait. You'll come seek me out and snuggle up, wrap your arms around me, and lift your face up for a kiss. Gonna be great."
"As your man," he hold up a finger, "don't argue. As your man, I drive. I pay for our meals. I carry heavy shit. I do any and all mechanical stuff including, but not limited to, oil changes, flat tires, gas fill-ups, and fixing or having fixed anything you break. If you cook, I clean. If there's a knock on the door late at night, I answer it. If someone makes you cry, I pay them a visit. Jars, I opened them. And babies, I get up every other time and bring them to you in bed if they're hungry. I very well may add to this list too, so be ready. I can write it down if you want me to."
