“I’ll use protection next time.”
My eyes narrowed. “Next time?”
He kissed me softly then pulled back. “Yeah,” he said casually.
“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’ll 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 challenge 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 all.
“Let’s see, Sunday night, you saved a runaway from a drug dealer,” he started.