7. Does that really say cindercorn under species? #3
I did my best work on making coffee while my eager husband hovered, the equivalent of an excited puppy while observing me make his precious brew.
As such, I went to work scouring the house for clothes suitable for a hike into Vermont, discovering I needed to do a better job of shopping for winter clothes.
As promised, I snagged the lacy black bra and panties Quinn loved best, and I dug through my box of spare clothing to retrieve several other sets just like them I’d found in different colors.
I grabbed enough clothes for him, selfishly selecting what I enjoyed him wearing the most.
Once we had what we needed for the trip, I went into our home office, which had our filing cabinets, book storage, and a small table two could work at when necessary.
Fortunately, Quinn kept immaculate records, and he had receipts from the day he’d turned eighteen.
Not only did he have his old receipts, he labeled them by type and month, making it easy to sort through.
As I had no idea when he’d married Audrey, I started from the very beginning, rummaging through his life before we’d met.
The receipts told a startlingly sad story of him working and doing little else. I found the title and purchase agreement for his car, discovering he’d bought it used and had financed it for five years. It hadn’t had many miles on it when he’d gotten his hands on it.
It cost significantly less than I’d expected it to.
I would have thought his promotion would have earned him something better—or at least with a much higher price tag.
Once Audrey came into his life, his spending habits changed—and his work hours increased a terrifying amount. Then, starting shortly before he’d come storming into my life, his financial story changed again.
He established a budget for coffee, and he established folders dedicated to his coffee habit.
Most of the receipts came from my work.
“What an obsessive man,” I murmured, making sure I put everything back exactly as I found it before eyeballing the filing cabinet Quinn constantly glared at. It took some trial and error, but one of the keys he’d given me for the cabinets opened it.
Apparently, Audrey McGee hadn’t bothered to claim her financial records following her divorce from my Quinn. Unlike my husband, her records were haphazardly kept, marked only by tax year, which would make life interesting for me. Like Quinn, she’d kept records from when she’d turned eighteen.
I bet he had a lot to do with that, as he hated sloppy records, and he’d insisted I gather as much of my records as I could, although napalming my apartment had given me a clean start.
The most current filing cabinets blended our lives, and the rift between Quinn and Audrey became more apparent every minute I snooped through her life.
I grabbed my new leather travel totes designed for hanging file folders, unwrapped them, and lined four of them up on the table. I had no idea why Quinn thought I would need ten of the damned things, but they were the same as his but in a different color.
As my gorgon-incubus doohickey might burn his when he found out Audrey’s files had contaminated them, I loaded her entire filing cabinet into them, discovering I needed all ten to fit her messy paperwork.
Wrinkling my nose, I hauled the whole lot downstairs to discover the Quinn family had gone and done something excessive again.
Instead of the ten planned rose bushes, a collection of thirty took over our living room, meaning the archangel, the Devil, and my husband had rescued every damned rose plant we owned, including the six he’d planted when married to Audrey and the ones from the back yard.
Men.
“You three are excessive,” I announced.
The Devil grinned at me. “He began to fret you might miss the other roses, so we rescued them all. I recommend you build a greenhouse in your next home specifically for your roses, and then you can plant new roses outside to add to your collection.”
Oh, I liked that idea. “Please tell my husband all roses are edible roses.”
“They are. You can even eat non-edible ones to your heart’s content. That is one of the benefits of your line. You could chug nightshade without issue. Sure, you’d get one hell of a high and an even worse hangover, but it’s not going to kill you.”
“No, you may not chug nightshade,” Quinn stated, and according to his tone, we would have an epic fight if I even thought about it.
“Cut me off spaghetti, and we will have problems, you.”
The Devil laughed. “Your tomatoes are safe, and so are your greasy fries.”
I glared at my husband until he threw up his hands. “Bailey, I’ll have a heart attack if you start fiddling with poisons.”
“Stay away from my sauce supply, you.”
The Devil chuckled, and he slapped his hand to the side of the pot containing my favorite of the roses. “I’m going to head home. Enjoy your vacation, and when you decide on where you’ll live, I’ll bring your roses back.”
“Thank you.” I crouched next to my roses and patted them. “Be good until you come back.”
Before I could make even more of an idiot out of myself, the Devil disappeared and took the roses with him.
Sariel straightened, stretched his wings, and rubbed his hands together.
“With that handled, I shall head home as well. Try not to get into too much trouble, you two. I’ll be in the heavens for a while, so I might not be readily available.
Reception is questionable depending on His mood. ”
Before I could thank him, the archangel vanished.
Quinn closed the door and heaved a sigh. “That was exhausting.”
“Physically or emotionally?” I could fix the physically exhausted aspect. Gorgon-incubus doohickeys responded well when showered with affection, and mine particularly enjoyed when I showered him with affection in the shower.
“I’m going to say both.”
Score. “You can tidy the bathroom while I finish what I’m doing, then we can catch a short nap before we head off.”
“I won’t need a nap at that point, you saucy woman.”
“Well, I will!”
“You can nap in the car.”
Double score. “Find us a rental SUV so we can leave your precious car in the garage while we’re gone. We won’t have the space in the trunk for everything I’ve packed.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of that and pack.”
“I already packed for you. Selfishly.”
I loved his dark, sinful chuckle. “You’re something else.”
That I was. “Just hurry it up. We don’t have all day, and I forgot to schedule in time for a shower.”