“I didn’t use protection.”
At his words, my trip to the mal went out of my head with a “poof” and my body went rock solid. Then I unfroze, pul ed back and looked at him.
He was smiling.
Smiling.
I stared at him like he was a lunatic. “What, exactly, is there to smile about?” I yel ed. Then visions of Vance teaching a dark haired little boy how to feloniously disable an alarm popped unwanted into my head and I quit yel ing and breathed, “Oh my God,” then I repeated it, “oh my God.” He rol ed me to my back, his body mostly over mine, he came up on his elbow, stil smiling.
“Calm down,” he said.
“Calm… calm down? I’m always lecturing the kids about using condoms. I’m like… why didn’t you… oh my God.”
“I’l use protection next time.”
My eyes narrowed. “Next time?”
He kissed me softly then pul ed back. “Yeah,” he said casual y.
“It might be too late,” I informed him, deciding to fight the
“next time” fight later.
I mean, didn’t men flip out about these things too? His behavior was just bizarre.
He didn’t respond.
“What if it’s too late?” I asked.
“If it’s too late, you’l make a good mother, if you remember to get a babysitter before you go out and crack heads.”
My eyes bugged out and my mouth dropped open. He was making jokes.
Making jokes.
He took in my bug-eyed look and I felt his body shake with laughter. Then I heard his laughter and my blood pressure skyrocketed.
“This is not funny, Crowe,” I snapped.
“Yeah it is.”
“What’s so damned funny about it?”
“You,” he replied, “you’re very cute, Princess.” Um.
He did not just say that.
“Vance…” I said his name in my-word-is-law-and-you-are-in- trouble voice.
He ignored my voice. “What’s done is done, we can’t go back. There’s no point getting upset about it.”
“Excuse me, but –” I interrupted but he talked over me.
“Odds are I didn’t get you pregnant but if there’s anyone I know who could cope, it’s you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to cope,” I snapped.
He grinned. “Too late now.”
He thought this was hilarious.
I slapped his arm. “Stop grinning.”
He ran his fingers through my hair at the side of my head and then curled a bunch of it around his fist.
“Motherhood won’t be a chal enge for you,” he went on, laughter in his voice.
Apparently he thought he was funny. I frowned at him. I did not think he was funny.
At al .
“Let’s see, Sunday night, you saved a runaway from a drug dealer,” he started.
“I did not, you did. He was kicking my ass.” He talked over me. “Monday night, you brought down two dealers single-handedly.”
“Wel , I did do that,” I al owed.
He kept talking. “Tuesday night, you had to take a break from keeping the streets safe for the citizens of Denver to go out with me.”
“Crowe –”
“Tonight, you began the healing process of three brothers who’d been torn apart by tragedy. They’re not blood, but brothers al the same.”
“Stop talking.”
“What’re you gonna do tomorrow? Cure world hunger?”
“Crowe, I said, stop talking.”
He started to laugh again, let go of my hair, curled his arms around me and rol ed to his back, taking me with him.
I lifted my head, planted my forearms in his chest and frowned down at him but he ignored my frown and kept talking, or I should say, teasing.
“Discover the cure for cancer?”
“Crowe. I’l say it again, this is not funny.” His face changed, went soft, his tractor beam switched on and he finished quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Motherhood won’t be a chal enge for you.”
“Crowe.”
“Stop worrying about it Jules. We’l deal with it if it happens.”
“No we won’t. We’re over. Done. I’m breaking up with you,” I announced.
There. I did it.
His hand twisted in my hair again and he brought my face to his. “You can break up with me on Friday. I wanna take you to your birthday party tomorrow.” Wel , I guessed I didn’t do it and he was stil not taking me seriously.
“Stop joking, I’m being serious,” I informed him.
He brought my face the rest of the way to his and kissed me. Not softly this time, there was meaning to his kiss.
I was a little breathless and my head was slightly muddled when his lips detached from mine but I kept at it even when his lips went to my neck.
“We need to talk about this,” I told him.
“We’l talk about it on Friday,” he murmured against my neck and I knew the way he said it that he had absolutely no intention of talking about it Friday.
Then his tongue slid from my jaw to my shoulder and I shivered.
“We need to talk about it now,” I tried to speak in my word-is-law voice but it came out breathy.
“Friday,” he rol ed me to my back again and came over me.
“Vance –”
His mouth against mine, he said softly, “Shut up Jules.”