Rescued by the Alien Bull Rider (Cowboy Colony Mail-Order Brides, #6)

by Ursa Dax

Was this some Zabrian wedding custom? I knew there were Old-Earth customs that involved burning hay in the shape of people or devils. But what did it mean to find a non-person-shaped, very-cube-shaped block of hay in your bed? The very same bed that your husband-to-be obviously hadn’t slept in? I eyed the hay and shook my head. Nope. No way Zohro’s big body would have fit there. Unless he spent the night perched on top of the bale of hay. Like a sleep paralysis demon. Or a cat.

“You already thanked me for the hay bale.” “Yeah, but I didn’t really mean it the first time.” Zohro’s thunderous frown was nearly as spectacular as his ass. “Why the blazes would you say it if you didn’t mean it?” “Because I didn’t know what the hay meant to you! I wondered if it was some, like, sacred wedding ritual or something. Or a gift. I didn’t want to offend you.” His brows rose as if with disbelief. “A gift?” “I mean, it is a very nice hay bale,” I said soothingly.

“Because even a blade this sharp,” he rasped, “couldn’t shred me like the look on your face right now.”

“Hmm.” He drummed his claws upon his big, purple chin. “I suppose you must show her how caring you can be. Have you tried making her some jambrewskies?” “Making her some what?” “Jamgiggities.” “I have absolutely no idea what you’re saying.” “Clothes they sleep in! You must know the sort. Jamburritos.” He shook his head, as if disappointed in me. “I really thought you’d know what human jamchiladas were by now.” “Warden Tenn, I must advise you that, in my professional opinion, you’re probably having a stroke.” He did not appear alarmed. “It’s a human word. Don’t blame me. It’s not as if I came up with a word as ridiculous as jamdildos.” “Jam…dildos…”

“Give me that!” I snatched the fabric from his hands. “Stop getting all white-eyed thinking of your wife’s jamdildos!” “I wasn’t,” he insisted. “You were!” “I was thinking of my wife without her jamdildos.” Empire help me.

“I made you something as well. Jamdildos.” She looked startled all over again. Fascinatingly, her neck flushed red a moment before her cheeks did. I wondered how hot her skin was now. “You… Pardon?!” “The warden told me about it.” “The warden told you to make me a dildo?”

“Jolene!” Warden Tenn boomed, finishing up with the tent. “Your jamspaghettis become you very well!” “My… what?” “Ignore him,” Tasha said with a laugh and a roll of her eyes. “That Zabrian couldn’t remember the pronunciation of ‘jammies’ if his life depended on it.”

I am a pregnant potato.