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February 25 - February 26, 2023
And that’s how I ended up boxing up a murderer’s breakfast and possibly falling in love, because even though he wasn’t particularly handsome or incredibly charming, he was competent and self-possessed, and if no one ever told you that confidence is sexy, then allow me to be the first: confidence is sexy. Full stop. I don’t care what you look like or if you have a bad personality or if you’re homely. Confidence. Is. Sexy.
Le sigh. My one true love, whatever his name was…
The man spins, immediately spotting and completely disregarding me. I mean, I don’t blame him. I’m not all that memorable, but still. My hopeful, little, romantic heart gives a twinge at being so easily forgotten. Ouch, Future Husband. Ouch.
I guess my future husband’s name or moniker is Fox since that’s the second person to call him that. Fitting. The man is a total fox. Not a silver fox yet, he needs a few years for the silver to start coming into his dark hair, but I can totally see him as a sexy silver fox in about a decade, and I’m so here for that.
Looking around at the bodies I hang my head and shake my fist at Fox. If he weren’t the love of my life, I’d be a bit more piqued, but I guess I’m just glad he’s alive.
I’m basically his responsibility at this point. I’ll bring joy to his deadly life and he will protect me, and that’s a totally fair exchange.
“I work for an organization that utilizes chip implants for commerce. You’ll get one after a trial period if you choose to remain in my employ.” Well, that’s not a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream. Nope. Not at all. I give Fox an exaggerated side-eye and shake my head. “Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you,” he teases me as I lace my fingers through his.
I edit the contact name to add “aka Future Husband” and give him back his phone. Don’t want him to forget he’s going to eventually want to buy me jewelry to go with my outfits. Diamonds are this boy’s best friend.
“I’m trying to decide why you’ve never been afraid of me and what kind of person pushes a severed head off their lap before demanding money for clothes.”
why would I be afraid of you? You’re competent. You’re not going to *accidentally* kill me.
Plus, I’ve read that it’s almost impossible to kill your fated mate, so I’m pretty confident I’m safe from you.
Fox takes a seat on one of the sofas away from the table, and then the man pulls me into his lap. I like where this is going. Hand-holding and lap-sitting are totally things we should do. Giving him my happiest smile, I kiss his cheek again, because he should be rewarded when he treats me in the way in which I want to become accustomed.
She’s not exactly a motherly figure, is she? Maybe the crazy cool aunt that drops by on holidays with age-inappropriate gifts for her nieces and nephews.
I’m almost sorry that I already decided to marry Fox. I’d be your sugar baby in a heartbeat. Can I call you Daddy anyway? Annette snorts and laughs hard. “Oh yes. Please do.” God, how is it possible to find two soulmates within a week. I find and immediately change the name of her contact info in my phone to “Daddy.”
Oh, yeah. I’m going to get used to this. Spoil me rotten, Fox, and I’ll spoil you. Even if you have a weird obsession with tables.
He’s going to have to learn to use a gun safe when we start having kids. If we start having kids. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m parent material. Husband material? Yeah. I’m so down for marital bliss. Kids? That might be something to talk about in like ten years. Maybe we skip the helpless baby stage and go for adopting middle schoolers. Eh, we’ve got time to figure it out.
It’s a pretty good college nerd/jock romance, and I am all in on whether the game of gay chicken the side characters are playing is going to implode or not. Spoiler alert. It will; that’s the next book in the series.
I came, I showed myself, I took a seat, and now I get to read until Fox arrives.
We should go on our second date tomorrow because I’ve decided not to put out until date three, and I might combust if we take too much time getting there.
Maybe I should take up yoga. Isn’t yoga the meditation exercise that helps people become better humans? I should look into that; I’m beginning to think I might have a kink for watching my man work, and if he was a baseball player, that would make sense, but since he’s apparently a Reaper, that’s probably something I should talk to a therapist about.
the language of the gargoyles is beautiful. Of course, just because it’s beautiful to listen to doesn’t mean they’re not talking about dicks or something. I mean, I’d probably talk about dicks if I could talk.
I get the pleasure of watching his cock go from flaccid to erect, and oh my, what a sight it is. My dick responds in kind, as it should when I’m complimented so thoroughly, and it takes all my significant effort not to reach for him.
People say it’s the thought that counts, but if you don’t know what your person wants, you should think about letting them pick it themselves. That thought definitely counts.
“Diamonds. Cufflinks, pocket watch, tie pin, collar chain, pocket brooch, and engagement ring.” Fox gives me a level look. “The ring is for later.” Of course it is; that does not stop me from jumping into his arms and kissing the ever-loving shit out of him. I love it when the important people get on board with my plans.
Sorry, Fox, you’re on your own if you get caught in another trap. I can’t help; I have too many diamonds to protect now.
Pretty sure the receipt in the bag has the monetary value of my jewels printed on it and it doesn’t say “priceless.” And that is all the sap you are getting from me right now.
Daddy: They take their lives in their own hands any time they try to photograph a Reaper.
I give him an assuring squeeze and pat his back to let him know his secret is safe with me. Unless Annette bribes me with more jewelry, then all bets are off, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Coffee is apparently the way to this man’s heart, so clearly the old adage is true. I’ll have to see if it's also true for Fox, but since he eats without appreciating the taste of his food, it might be hard to convince his stomach to let me squirrel into his heart. I’m up for the challenge, though; no way am I giving up a man who knows how important my coffee is.
Depot: Noted. Twelve hour sexcation confirmed.
Mute boy trains the silent type to talk in less than a week. Amazing.
the takeaway is that you’ve basically adopted him. Congratulations. Me: I’m too young to be a father! McQueen: Too late. No take backs. I’m a grandfather now. Me: I’m going through a tunnel. You’re breaking up. Krrk. Oh darn. I’ve lost the connection.
“I am not living in a house where the dining tables outnumber the actual number of residents,”
“I’m not calling you ‘Dad.’” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Fox murmurs. “Call me ‘Oppa.’” Obviously I’m Papa. Fox nods approvingly as Bellamy looks at him with an expression of utter disbelief. “Your reputation is a bald-faced lie.” Fox taps the rim of Bellamy’s bowl. “Finish your ice cream. It’s past your bedtime.” “Please send me back to Santanos.”
Daddy: Why am I getting a notice of paternity leave from HR? Me: We adopted Bellamy last night. Obviously we need some time to adjust to parenthood. Daddy: I’m too young for grand sugar babies. Me: It’s too late. No take backs. You’re a grand sugar daddy now. Daddy: Imma buy my boys matching father-son outfits. Me: I approve. Make sure his says “mini me” on it. Daddy: *evil smiling emoji*
Wow, Bellamy in professional assassin mode is scarily competent. He’s totally going to end up being Annette’s favorite minion. I’m not even jealous; I’m just really fucking proud of my boy.
I have it on good authority that I’m perfect. Fox told me so.
