Page 193 of A Lick and A Promise
I heard Knox swallow his chuckle.
I slid my eyes to him.
“I will find it funny, I promise,” I said. “Right now, it’s not funny. I really liked those shoes.”
“I’ll buy you a new pair, baby,” he murmured.
I shoved more food in my mouth.
“That smells good,” Knox remarked.
All right.
It wasn’t his fault Cheyenne was a lunatic.
And Dimitri did find it funny, so no hitmen were receiving orders to whack those crazy broads who made a mockery of his classy restaurant tonight.
I got up, moved to him, sat close and offered him the bowl.
He took it.
He ate some.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered with his mouth still full.
“You should taste their borscht.”
Knox’s body gave a start.
I’d give it to him, he tried. I could see him trying. I could see how much it took from him.
Then he failed and burst out laughing.
I did too.
So I guessed it was funny.
Whatever.
He and Brady had worked things out.
Cheyenne was out of our lives.
We were together.
And moving on.
TWENTY-TWO
SPORTS WIDOW
I was beginning to be able to assess in minute detail how Knox’s recovery was going.
And the next morning, as I held onto the headboard with Knox behind me, fucking me with both of us on our knees, I could gladly report he was recuperating nicely.
Very nicely.
And he was getting his energy back.
