“Has it occurred to you that you can dump your clothes on my floor and the miracle of Tyra’s washing machine will get them clean when I do laundry, something that happens regularly?”

The air in the room went electric, but I didn’t understand it.

“Joker?” I called when he stood there, holding a struggling Travis, who wanted to be back on the floor. “Carson,” I said when he still didn’t reply.

Joker shook his head shortly, shaking himself out of his strange stupor.

Then he said, “Carrie, told you you don’t have to do payback like that.”

“I do laundry, Joker. I’m a woman. I like clean clothes,” I returned. “I’m also a mother who likes her son to be in clean clothes. In other words, it’s no skin off my nose my biker’s jeans and tees are in a load with the rest of our stuff.”

His voice was oddly gentle when he stated, “Baby, I see you’re not gettin’ this is a leap in where we’re headin’, and as much as I like that leap, I’m not takin’ it without you gettin’ it.”

“Getting what?”

“Me droppin’ my clothes on your floor.”

“I would prefer the hamper,” I replied. “But I’ll take the floor if I don’t have to haul your stuff from here to home or make a special trip and do it in the machines here.”

“Carrie, you’re still not getting it,” he pushed carefully.

“What?” I asked impatiently.

“A man and woman are in a certain place, he drops his clothes on her floor.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Well, obviously. But I’m seeing you don’t get it. A woman has to be in a certain place with a man to let him feed her baby and claim him every time he’s even close. So I’m there. A handsome biker is the only being that stops to help me with my tire in rush hour, congested traffic on I-25, that biker being all that’s you, I got there quickly. It’s you lagging behind, leaving your dirty clothes in the wrong building.”

The air started zapping when he whispered, “Are you seriously asking me to move in with you?”

My head jerked to the side in surprise.

He was usually so quick.

“Do I have to ask? I mean,” I tossed a hand to the bed, “when’s the last time you slept here?”

He didn’t answer.

I kept at him. “Am I yours?”

“Fu…” He clenched his teeth and forced out, “Yes.”

“So what am I not getting?” I asked.

“It’s fast,” he pointed out.

“Okay, it is,” I agreed. “But is it wrong?”

He stared at me.

Then he said, “No.”