Page 104 of Sugar & Shadows
“I don’t know,” I said. “You’re threatening my life and it’s kind of hot.”
She did look hot. That wasn’t new. But she usually looked polished professional ass-kicker hot. Today, the rage—and the pregnancy hormones, I guessed—made her look like some kind of sexy demon in cutesy pajama pants.
“You have problems.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. “I’m aware. One of them is the woman attempting to assault me in my own house.”
“Because you impregnated me. With your Paul Bunyan maple syrup spawn.”
“Sorry about that,” I whispered, my lips twitching.
She put her hand on her flat stomach. “I went to the doctor. She said six or seven weeks. I got to see the heartbeat. It was very strong and kind of aggressive.”
“That tracks. I thought you had—”
“An IUD? I do. It’s still in there. And apparently not as effective as I was led to believe.”
“But it was one time,” I reasoned.
She arched a brow. “Twice.”
Oh yeah. It had been quite a night.
“But,” I said with a smile, “I guess it’s good to know everything works.”
She growled in the most adorable way. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m a guy,” I said, throwing my hands up. “I’m happy that the equipment works. Exceptionally, I might add, seeing as how I got the job done in two tries.”
As her eyes narrowed, I realized I was back in the strike zone. “Know what? I’m going to castrate you. Like a bull.”
She grabbed her phone and jabbed at the screen. “I’m sure I can find a YouTube tutorial.”
She was way too serious for my liking.
So I threw out a joke. “Please don’t cut my balls off. I’m attached to them.”
She looked up, her face stony. “They only cause trouble, Gabriel.”
Then she burst into hysterical laughter.
I laughed too. This was the most positively ridiculous situation I’d ever found myself in.
She was pacing again, and her face had returned to a natural color. But twitchy energy radiated from her.
It was a shock. Sabrina Monroe was cool and collected. She never flinched or blinked first. Yet here she was, breaking down in my living room, stomping around in pajama pants and a designer jacket.
“I trusted modern medicine.” She wove around the couch and turned around dramatically, as if to make a point. “And somehow your flannel-clad junk managed to—” Her foot caught on a milk crate of legal files, and she pitched forward.
Heart in my throat, I lunged, grabbing her around the waist as she flailed.
I planted my feet to keep my balance, and just when I thought I’d steadied her, my face took a solid hit. Like a lightning strike. And I saw stars.
Sabrina dropped onto the couch as I recoiled, clutching my left eye. “Jesus,” I yelled, my skull aching. “Did you just punch me?”
Sabrina rubbed her knuckles, her eyes wide. “I panicked, I was falling and you grabbed me.”
With a groan, I flopped onto the cushion beside her. “I was trying to help.”
