MINE 2 by Kristina Weaver Read Free Book Online Page B

chap, but we’d bloody well better do something,” I mutter, giving her a strained smile when she comes back to the table and takes her own seat.
    “Ashley?” I begin, gaining a small measure of confidence from Benjamin’s subtle nod. “Are you feeling quite all right, love?”
    She smiles, her eyes distant and calm, and starts eating the Irish stew she’s made.
    “Uh-huh. I’m just fine, Lucian.”
    “Erm…are you sure, love? You seem to be…”
    “You’re being weird, Ash. Like, really weird. Yesterday you said I could swim by myself after snack time. You never let me swim alone. Ever. And you’ve been humming and doing weird stuff that you called frou…something, I can’t remember what you said, but you laughed your ass—”
    “Language, lad.”
    “Your butt off when Randy did that stuff and called her a loser.”
    “Yeah,” I agree, nodding my head thoughtfully. “And you haven’t once threatened to kill us if we mess with the remote when you’re recording your shows.”
    “I don’t know what to tell you guys,” she says with a shrug, continuing to eat her dinner while we sit and stare. “I just don’t want to moan about everything. At least not things that are minor, anyway. I’ve decided to just chill out and see where things take me, ya know? No harm in keeping things simple.”
    That simple statement sends chills down my spine for some reason. I just don’t know why.
    “Now eat your food and prepare to be super wowed by the brownies I baked earlier.”
    Benjamin and I share another fearful look before we dig in to the scrumptious feast and pretend not to be completely unsettled by the pod person chatting up a storm around us.
    Something is most definitely wrong with my woman; I just can’t quite understand what the hell it is.
    ***
    Ash
    “I can’t go to another bake sale or mommy conference. I swear I’ll start leaking brain fluid if I have to listen to another conversation about the merits of baking powder versus fucking baking soda. Please tell me why you’re trying to torture me,” I whine into the phone as I stand on the steps outside and wave to my two men as they leave for the day.
    My cheeks are so buff from smiling I’m scared to stop in case my whole face falls flat and starts oozing down my neck in a bid for freedom.
    “Because we want to unsettle your man before giving him the double whammy of ‘oh my God, my woman is perfection personified’.”
    “Yeah, he needs to see what the milk makes before he divvies up for the cow.”
    “Why did I agree to a conference call at eight in the morning?” I ask again, letting my shoulders ease the moment the car is out of sight.
    “Because you’re a giver?” Viv asks, chuckling at my disheartened growl. “Okay, okay, stop your belly aching, woman. You can stop the Martha Stewart act now. I bet you’ve got him hopping to keep up with your sudden about face.”
    “Yeah,” I snort, giggling as I hit the kitchen and grab another cup of much needed coffee. “He actually hid away in his study last night, waiting for me to fall asleep. He almost had a heart attack when I popped out of the bathroom as soon as he snuck into the room. I almost wet my pants at the horror on his face.”
    “I’ll bet. Did you wear those jammies we gave you?”
    “No! Stop talking about this right now, or I’m hanging up the phone,” Cammy groans, sensing another sex talk in the making.
    I’m a little relieved at her yelling when it stops the conversation and we move on to other topics. How am I supposed to admit that I’d taken pity on the poor man and all but tucked him in when I’d seen the dark circles beneath his eyes?
    My own vagina had also needed some much deserved rest, so I’d fallen into bed and gone straight to sleep, a satisfied smile rimming my lips.
    “So can I stop being a Stepford wife now? Please? I’m in the middle of this great romance book that I’ve been putting off since I started baking for the entire state.