“Luck?” the little pain in the ass said, sounding really fucking hopeful that he would drop this, and considering what he found out earlier, he really couldn’t blame her.
“And the fact that you moved out of your apartment and sold everything a few years ago so that you could couch surf and crash in my trailer?” Quinn asked as he threw the truck in park and-
“Ow.”
-fucking sighed when the little pain in the ass tried to make her escape only to end up rolling onto the floor.
“I had to save money,” Dylan reluctantly admitted when he opened his door and climbed out.
“What else?” Quinn asked as he opened the passenger side door.
“You already know about the designs and blackmail,” Dylan said as he reached down and grabbed her.
“I also know that you’ve been breaking into Blackwood Manor so that you could create your designs, but I’m not sure how long you’ve been doing it,” Quinn said as he pulled her free and threw her over his shoulder.
“I’d rather not answer that for my own safety,” Dylan admitted as he carried her towards the front door.
“And I’d rather you stop pissing me off,” Quinn countered as he unlocked the front door and carried her inside.
“I can see why that would be a problem,” Dylan mumbled as he pulled a chair out at the kitchen table and carefully placed her on it.
“Are you going to tell me?” he asked, only to immediately bite back a sigh when she slumped over onto the kitchen table.
“Are you going to let me live?” she countered against the kitchen table, making his lips twitch.
“I’m debating it,” Quinn said as he made his way around the kitchen table and sat down across from her.
“Seven,” Dylan admitted on a heavy sigh.
“You’ve been breaking into Blackwood Manor since you were seven?” Quinn asked, hoping like hell that he’d misheard her.
“I was practicing my burglary skills,” Dylan said with a heartfelt sigh as she turned her head so that she could watch him.
“You were practicing pissing me off,” Quinn bit out, tempted to throttle the little brat as he sat there, thinking of all the things that could have happened to her in that house.
“That, too,” Dylan said, making him wonder how much he actually knew about the little pain in the ass.
CHAPTER 11
This was probably one of those times when she should avoid making any sudden movements, Dylan thought as she watched Quinn’s eyes narrow on her.
While he glared, and that really should have been a deciding factor when she’d agreed to marry him, Dylan slowly, ever so slowly, so as to not startle the incredibly handsome man watching her every move, forced her sore arms to move beneath her head, providing her with a makeshift pillow. Once she was settled, Dylan propped her chin on her folded arms and found herself wondering what she did to piss him off this time.
Only…
He didn’t look like he was struggling with the urge to finally give in and spank her ass, he looked like he was trying to figure something out. Maybe he was trying to figure out where he was going to hide her body, Dylan thought only to immediately dismiss the idea, knowing that he probably had that figured out by the time that he was ten. That left her to wonder why he was staring at her like that. She-
Realized what they were supposed to do now.
Swallowing hard, Dylan stared at the man that she’d known her whole life, the one that she enjoyed tormenting for her own entertainment, and the one she’d married this morning and-
“How do you want to do this?” she found herself asking, watching as his frown deepened.
“Do what?” Quinn asked, drumming his fingertips against the table only to stop abruptly when she absently murmured, “Maybe we should use a turkey baster?” as she glanced at the kitchen cabinets and debated the odds of him actually having one only to decide that they weren’t good.
“For what?” he asked, looking more confused for some reason.
“Your deposit,” Dylan said only to frown when he made a choking sound.
