Spooky Business (The Spectral Files #3) - S.E. Harmon Page 0,80

both hot and tired and sweaty now, and that situation could hardly be improved by us cuddling like two handsy polar bears.

I rubbed a hand up and down his back and then all the way up through his silky hair, feeling the fragile shape of his skull under my hand. Might as well get in some tender loving care before I kicked him off me.

He trailed a few kisses down my throat. “What do you have going on today?”

“A session with Dakota and then I’ll play it by ear. What about you? Anything on the agenda?”

“Other than making an ass dent in the couch?” He huffed a laugh in the crook of my neck. “Not really. I’ll probably put something in the slow cooker for dinner and watch something mindless on TV. Too bad you won’t be here.”

“Yeah, too bad.” I scowled. “While you’re getting your jollies on, I’ll be working.”

“Glad to hear it. I won’t have to give you another check minus on your annual review for employee motivation.”

“Fuck off, Irish.”

“Oh my.” He pretended to clutch his nonexistent pearls. “Obviously, the needs attitude improvement I wrote in the comment section stays.”

“It doesn’t matter what you write, love. I have job security. I put the P in PTU.” I sent him a cheeky grin.

Suddenly, I remembered the errand I’d run on the way home the day before and realized I hadn’t followed through with the rest of my plan. I pushed at his shoulders, and he rolled off me and onto his back.

I got out of bed with a groan. Why, oh why, were there so many reasons to move after a jelly-knee inducing orgasm? It only took me a few moments to find the envelope in my attaché case, and I scuttled back under the covers.

I presented the envelope to Danny with a flourish. “I believe this belongs to you.”

He gave me a questioning look as he opened the envelope and pulled out the cashier’s check, one with enough zeroes on it to make me gulp when the teller printed it out. They should offer you a fifth of whiskey when you practically empty your account of your life’s savings—that’s just good customer service, really.

He looked at it for a few seconds, brow creased in confusion like he’d never seen a check before. Maybe the number of zeroes was throwing him off. “What’s this for?”

“It’s for you. I’m buying into the equity of the house. Our house.” I frowned. “And maybe you could look less like I handed you a sack of dog poop.”

He didn’t say anything, staring at me and the check alternatively. I thought he would be touched. Pleased, even. Right up until that crazy bastard crumpled the check.

“What the hell are you doing?” I squawked. I plucked the crumpled ball from his hands and started smoothing it back out. “I waited in line for twenty minutes to get this thing.”

“Why?”

“Because they don’t like it when you walk into a bank and say, stick 'em up,” I said, irritation clear in my tone.

“Not why did you wait in line,” he huffed. “I already put your name on the deed. Why did you get the check?”

“To show you….” I stopped smoothing obsessively, my brow wrinkled as I struggled to think of the right words. “To show you that I’m in. All the way in.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

His gaze was laced with exasperation and something else. I couldn’t quite define that something else, but it was warm and familiar. I wasn’t sure if he even realized it, but he reserved that look just for me, and it always made me a little weak-kneed.

“Okay,” he finally said.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” He leaned up to kiss me on the cheek before dropping back on his pillow. “I guess we can put it in the joint account.”

“You mean the one we don’t have?”

“The one we need to open,” he corrected. “It’s just fiscally responsible.”

I blinked at him, still clutching the wrinkled check in my hand. “Combining accounts? Wow. Doesn’t that seem a little… a little….” All out of words, I flapped my hands helplessly.

“I was talking about a joint account in addition to our separate accounts. One we could use for household bills and vacations and things like that.” His mouth was set in a grim line. “But do go on. What exactly does it seem?”

Oh boy. Does anyone else see that warning signal flashing neon orange? I’d hoped to put a lid on the can of worms the FBI badge had