The Alpha's Baby(68)

"Sardines?" she asked.

Mary Lou him-hawed. "I suppose. And haggis is also pretty disgusting."

"Or those disgusting scorpions on a stick that I saw on TV," Emmy said.

"Cockroach soup," Mary Lou said. "And yes, it exists."

"Some people eat rooster testicles." She thought it was revolting.

"Eh, rooster testicles are probably not that different from my late husband's balls." Mary Lou shrugged.

She felt the blood drain out of her face. "You didn't eat his balls, though, did you?"

Please God, no. Not even during foreplay.

"Who eats rooster testicles?" Sebastian said as he walked through the door.

Emmy whirled around, not sure if she should was happy he was there or devastated that he'd heard the words “rooster testicles.” "Sebastian!"

"Hey, sweetheart. Told you I wouldn't be long." He kissed her lips. "And nice to see you, Mary Lou. Good to know that you're enjoying giving Emmy a hard time."

"Always." Mary Lou grinned. "But before Emmy led this conversation in a distasteful direction—"

"Hey, you started this," she cried.

"I was going to ask if she'd run down to the bakery and get me a slice of red velvet cheesecake with extra whipped cream." Mary Lou licked her lips. "Oh, and a cappuccino would be nice too. Hospital coffee tastes like piss."

"Are you allowed to have all that?" Emmy raised an eyebrow.

"What harm can a piece of red velvet cheesecake do?" Mary Lou asked.

"It can cause a heart attack, for one thing," she said.

"Heart attacks are for old people. I won't have to worry about that for another sixty years." Mary Lou shot Sebastian her most charming grin. "Be a dear and get me the cake, will you? They may not serve rooster testicles at this hospital, but damn, it sure tastes like it."

Sebastian snorted. "I think I can manage that."

"You got yourself a keeper." Mary Lou winked at Emmy and settled down in her hospital bed.



****



After visiting with Mary Lou all day long, Emmy knew that not only was her best friend fine, but she also had an appetite to match an NBA player's. As she headed up the stairs to her apartment holding hands with Sebastian, she shook her head. Sebastian met her eyes.

"I was thinking about making you dinner tonight," he said. "What do you think about eating rooster testicles?"

"I don't want you to go near a skillet." She remembered the bacon incident all too well. "And I wouldn't eat rooster testicles even if somebody named me the queen of England."

Sebastian grinned as they reached her apartment. "If they named me the queen of England, I'd eat rooster testicles."

She snorted. "Well, the dresses would look fetching on you."

"I think the crown would fit me best." Sebastian moved his hand with flourish and spoke using a high-pitched tone. "Darling, don't these gems look fabulous?"

"You might want to work on your queen voice." She pulled out her key and unlocked her apartment. "You sound more like Morgan Freeman with a head cold."

"It's a work in progress." The man winked.

"Keep trying." She opened the door and stepped inside. "I'm sure you'll sound like a marvelous queen someday."

"Nice to know I have your support."

Grinning, she headed into the kitchen. "Always."

As Sebastian chuckled, she headed over to the refrigerator and opened it. The fridge was packed, but she didn't feel like cooking. If she was alone, she would have opened up a package of cookies and eaten the entire thing while watching reruns of her favorite sitcoms. Though that sounded like sheer bliss to her, she was sure that Sebastian would have been less than impressed by her choices.

"How do you feel about sandwiches?" She pulled out a package of smoked ham.

"I'm not sure sandwiches are enough to quench my appetite." Grinning, Sebastian peered over her shoulder. "How about I order Chinese?"

"I could go for some Chinese." Really, who didn't like greasy rice?

"Good." He pulled out his phone and pushed a button.

A second later, he had his phone pressed to his ear.

"You have a Chinese place on speed dial?" She shook her head in exasperation.

"What can I say, dialing is as close to cooking as I get." The guy shrugged.

Before she could say anything else, he began ordering a meal for two—or judging by the quantity of food, a meal for sixteen. Who did he think was going to be dining with them, a small army? After he hung up, she stepped in front of him and crossed her arms.

"Do we really need five containers of rice?" She had a stomachache just thinking about it.