Page 156 of Small Town, Big Storm

I wind my hand into her hair, tilt her head back, and kiss her.

Only when my lungs are screaming do I say, “I have eighteen-million dollars in my account, baby.I’m not worried about groceries or buying you and Holly a scoop of ice cream.”

She pulls out of my hold, and even though I don’t like that, I don’t drag her back against me.

Mostly because I don’t like what she says next, “Well,Ido!”

“Why?”I grit out.

“Because I need to be self-sufficient.I need to be independent!”

“We’re supposed to be a team, baby.Supposed to be doing it together, and not to be a dick, but you’ll never be able to match me financially.But I don’t give a fuck about that,” I add when her eyes cloud, “because you’ll be contributing to our family in other ways.”

For some reason, that makes her eyes cloud further.“What,” she mutters, “with blowjobs?”

That shocks the shit out of me, so much so that I laugh.

Which is precisely the wrong thing to do in this moment.

She stomps away from me and over to the mop bucket, whipping it out and dragging it across the floor in tense, angry movements.

“Pop,” I begin.

“I’m not giving up Sully’s.”

That has me rocking back on my heels.“I’d never ask you to.”

“Except that you don’t like me working here.”

My temper is riding a razor’s edge, but I tamp it down and do my best to listen with an open mind…and to be just as open back.“I don’t love you working late, Pop, but I know how important this place is to you.I would never take that away.”

“What about the apartment?”she asks.

“What about it?”

“You’re building a house.You’re going to want to live there.”

“I don’t give a fuck where I live,” I say baldly.“So long as I’m with you and Holly.”

She stills, the mop leaving a glistening streak on the floorboards.I take it from her and shove it into the bucket.

“But you and Rain are working so hard on it,” she whispers.

“Nothing,” I say.“Nothingis more important than you and Holly.”

Her green eyes lock onto mine.

Then she surprises the shit out of me by bursting into tears.

I catch her in my arms, pressing her face to my chest, stroking my hand up and down her back as she cries.The sobs are painful, loud, filled with worry and hurt, sadness and grief…and fear.Beneath it all is fear, I realize when she wails, “But…what…if…you…get…traded?”

“Oh, baby,” I murmur.“There is nothing that could keep me away from you and Holly—not hockey, not the ghost of a man who hurt me, not even a town full of judgmental old crones.”

“G-Gertie loves you,” she whispers.

“And the rest of the Cocktail Cacklers?”I ask, using her name for the old biddies because I know it’ll make her smile.

And it works.