Page 35 of Burn (Two Wheeled Psychos #2)

“Hey baby. How’s my good fucking girl?”

I ask a very pregnant Phoenix as she tends the grill outside in our back yard.

The birds are chirping their early spring songs, and the dogs trot through the yard, barking at the neighbor’s new puppy through the picket fence. The sun is setting, and the sky is beautiful shades of orange, red, and blue, reminiscent of the flames inside the gas grill she’s searing our steak dinner on.

“Mmmm hi. How was work?”

She asks, giving me a big kiss on my soot covered forehead.

“You know, same old same old.”

“I bet. You hungry?”

“Famished.”

I chuckle, taking the spatula from her hand and setting it down on the picnic table.

“But not for food.”

“Zeph! I’m starving.”

“I have something you can eat.”

“Can I cook it first?”

She asks, waggling her eyebrows at me with a comical seduction.

“My dick? Anything but that baby.”

“Awww damn.”

She pouts, sticking out her lower lip.

“You had better not be teaching our daughter that trick when she gets here.”

“Oh yeah. Or what?”

“You do know I’m a big, bad, serial killer, right?”

I laugh, grabbing her and holding her back to my front.

I wrap my arms around her belly, lifting it up to give her back a break from carrying the weight around all day, making her sigh and lean against me.

“Ooh I’m so scared.”

“Shaking in your shoes?”

“From you? Nah.”

“Good, because I’m more scared of you. You’re crazy.”

Yeah she is, even more so than you.

“Damn straight.”