He rolled me to my back, his body mostly over mine, he came up on his elbow, still smiling.

“Calm down,” he said.

“Calm… calm down? I’m always lecturing the kids about using condoms. I’m like… why didn’t you… oh my God.”

“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.

“I did not, you did. He was kicking my ass.”

He talked over me. “Monday night, you brought down two dealers single-handedly.”

“Well, I did do that,” I allowed.

He kept talking. “Tuesday night, you had to take a break from keeping the streets safe for the citizens of Denver to go out with me.”

“Crowe –”

“Tonight, you began the healing process of three brothers who’d been torn apart by tragedy. They’re not blood, but brothers all the same.”

“Stop talking.”

“What’re you gonna do tomorrow? Cure world hunger?”

“Crowe, I said, stop talking.”

He started to laugh again, let go of my hair, curled his arms around me and rolled to his back, taking me with him. I lifted my head, planted my forearms in his chest and frowned down at him but he ignored my frown and kept talking, or I should say, teasing.

“Discover the cure for cancer?”

“Crowe. I’ll say it again, this is not funny.”

His face changed, went soft, his tractor beam switched on and he finished quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Motherhood won’t be a challenge for you.”

“Crowe.”

“Stop worrying about it Jules. We’ll deal with it if it happens.”

“No we won’t. We’re over. Done. I’m breaking up with you,” I announced.

There. I did it.

His hand twisted in my hair again and he brought my face to his. “You can break up with me on Friday. I wanna take you to your birthday party tomorrow.”

Well, I guessed I didn’t do it and he was still not taking me seriously.

“Stop joking, I’m being serious,” I informed him.

He brought my face the rest of the way to his and kissed me. Not softly this time, there was meaning to his kiss.

I was a little breathless and my head was slightly muddled when his lips detached from mine but I kept at it even when his lips went to my neck.

“We need to talk about this,” I told him.

“We’ll talk about it on Friday,” he murmured against my neck and I knew the way he said it that he had absolutely no intention of talking about it Friday.

Then his tongue slid from my jaw to my shoulder and I shivered.

“We need to talk about it now,” I tried to speak in my word-is-law voice but it came out breathy.

“Friday,” he rolled me to my back again and came over me.

“Vance –”

His mouth against mine, he said softly, “Shut up Jules.”

“Stop telling me to shut up.”

He kissed me quiet and while he did his hand went up my nightgown, straight to my breast and his thumb took a swipe at my nipple. I gasped against his mouth and after my gasp he lifted his head an inch and looked me in the eye. His eyes were now full-on intense, his sexual tractor beam had gone super-powered and all my breath escaped my lungs.

“You wanna talk while I go down on you, be my guest. But I’m finally gonna taste you and then I’m gonna f**k you again and it might be distracting.”

Oh my God.

I was already at Grade Six.

“You wanna talk?” he asked.

I immediately shook my head, not because I didn’t have anything to say, mainly because I couldn’t speak.

He grinned and it was wicked.

Then his mouth came to mine and after that he did as he promised.

But he wore a condom this time.

* * * * *

The house was dark, Boo was snuggled into the small of my back and I was curled into Vance’s side, my arm around his waist, his tucked under and curled around me, hand at my hip.

I was thinking that sex was good but o**l s*x might be even better. It was a tossup and I was mentally enumerating the pros (there were lots) and cons (I couldn’t find any) of both when Vance said softly, “Tell me about your Aunt Reba.”

Still in the throes of post-orgasm mellowness I didn’t clam up instead, I asked, “What do you want to know?”

His fingers were tracing patterns on my hip and I liked the feel of it, it was sweet and relaxing.

“Did she look like you?” he asked.

I shook my head against his shoulder but said, “Maybe a little in the face. I look like my Mom. I have my Dad’s hair.”