I didn’t share this, I said, “Colt –”
“Just don’t move the jerseys or the Harry’s print.”
“Colt –”
“And find some way to lose that f**kin’ picture of flowers your mother put in the second bedroom.”
“Colt –”
“It isn’t me or you.”
He obviously had been so focused on the picture he hadn’t seen the be-flowered sheets and comforter Mom put on the bed or, clearly, the very ruffled dust ruffle. They weren’t me or Colt either, by a long shot.
“Colt!”
“What?”
I turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Are you telling me to move in?”
“You got a problem with that?”
This was an excellent question, one to which the only answer was “no” yet, even so, I couldn’t utter that word.
Instead, I said, “Only people probably gonna use that room are Mom and Dad. She wants to sleep under flowers? What do we care?”
He smiled again and this smile only communicated one thing and that one thing made the tears prick my eyes again.
His voice was a lot less pushy and a lot more gentle when he said, “I gotta look at it every day.”
“Then close the door.”
His arms grew tighter, pulling me closer, before he whispered, “I’m gonna say this once and let it go.”
Oh Lord, what now? He was relentless, I couldn’t hack it.
“I missed you, February.”
I was right. I couldn’t hack it. The tears I was fighting back slid from my eyes and I felt my body start trembling in his arms.
“I’ll take those tears this time, seein’ as they’re for me.”
“Alec –” I whispered.
He talked over me, his gaze going from my cheeks to my eyes. “Today, you gotta worry about your funeral outfit, packin’ your shit and one more thing.”
What now?
He didn’t make me wait. “Feds wanna put us in protective custody. They offered it the other night. I’m puttin’ in the security system which’ll help with peace of mind. They protect us, it’s a guarantee this shit goes away without us feelin’ it. This isn’t a decision I can make, you gotta make it, honey. You wanna go away and wait this out, I’ll be with you. You wanna stay and live your life as normal as you can, I’ll do what I can to protect you.”
“Colt –”
“Take the day and tell me tonight.”
As what was going on finally permeated, I tipped my head to the side and stopped crying before I asked, “Is this entire conversation gonna be one-sided or are you gonna let me speak?”
“I gotta get this out and get to the Station. You speakin’ means the first one will take longer, delayin’ the second one.”
There was my answer; this conversation was going to be one-sided.
I decided to communicate non-verbally which I did, by glaring at him. He read it, it bothered him not even a little bit and I knew this because he smiled, gave me a squeeze and dropped his arms.
Then I found myself pissed that he’d just told me I was moving in with him, pretty much told me he still loved me, definitely told me he missed me and then he just let me go without kissing me.
“That’s it?” I asked as he shrugged off his blazer and threw it on the bed.
He turned his head to look at me as he pulled the badge off his belt. “What’s it?”
I looked at the ceiling and asked it, “Is it me, or was that just a momentous occasion?”
The ceiling had no answer but Colt chuckled and I glared at him again while he tossed his shoulder holster on his blazer.
“Did you ask Jessie to get muffin for me?” he asked.
I blinked, stupefied at the change of subject.
“Yes,” I replied and of course I did. I had no idea when he would be home but I knew he’d eventually be home and Jessie was going to Meems’s. No one missed out on Mimi’s muffins if they could help it. It was a crime against nature.
“Blueberry?” he asked.
Mimi made a lot of different muffins but the way she made her blueberry ones, with the crunchy sprinkles on top, made them the only way to go.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Split it in half, baby, butter it and nuke it. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I watched, frozen, as he moved to collect the coffee cup he’d put on my nightstand before he’d grabbed me earlier. He took a sip, his golden eyes on me over the rim then put it back down.
“Feb. Muffin?”
I came out of my deep freeze with a jerk and asked, “What am I? Your waitress?”
“Honey, last night, the least I earned was an omelet and you know it,” he said as he started to unbutton his shirt. “This mornin’, you can butter and nuke a muffin for me.”
This was, unfortunately, true. My Omelet a la Feb was awesome. Though it was more that he earned a waffle. My waffles were killer. The orgasm last night he’d given me while holding me up and pinned against the wall – definitely waffle material. I could butter and nuke a muffin for him.
Even so, I turned to the door, muttering, “I’m rethinking breakfast payback.”
I was two feet away from the door before his arm came around me again, I saw his other arm shoot out then I saw the door slam shut then I was turned and my body slammed against it. I lifted my chin to look at him and, a half a second later, Colt’s mouth was on mine.
In the seconds I could think clearly before the kiss took all my concentration, I knew he’d been f**king with me. That kiss was wet, hard, long and involved a goodly deal of hand exploration, both his and mine (his, mostly at my ass, mine, the same on his ass). It was the kind of kiss you had to celebrate a momentous occasion. It was the kind of kiss you never forgot your whole life.
When he broke the connection of our mouths, he rested his forehead to mine and whispered, “I’ll look forward to you making my house ours, Feb.”
Then he let me go, leaving me against the door. He walked to the nightstand, grabbed his coffee and then hit the bathroom, closing the door halfway.
I watched this whole thing, unable to move. I didn’t know what I was feeling because I never felt it in my entire life. Never. Not when we were together before. Not anytime while I grew up in a happy house with a family I loved who looked out for me. Never. I wasn’t even certain there was a word for it but, like the kiss that came just before, I knew I’d ever forget standing there at Colt’s bedroom door, feeling that startlingly miraculous feeling.
“Just don’t move the jerseys or the Harry’s print.”
“Colt –”
“And find some way to lose that f**kin’ picture of flowers your mother put in the second bedroom.”
“Colt –”
“It isn’t me or you.”
He obviously had been so focused on the picture he hadn’t seen the be-flowered sheets and comforter Mom put on the bed or, clearly, the very ruffled dust ruffle. They weren’t me or Colt either, by a long shot.
“Colt!”
“What?”
I turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Are you telling me to move in?”
“You got a problem with that?”
This was an excellent question, one to which the only answer was “no” yet, even so, I couldn’t utter that word.
Instead, I said, “Only people probably gonna use that room are Mom and Dad. She wants to sleep under flowers? What do we care?”
He smiled again and this smile only communicated one thing and that one thing made the tears prick my eyes again.
His voice was a lot less pushy and a lot more gentle when he said, “I gotta look at it every day.”
“Then close the door.”
His arms grew tighter, pulling me closer, before he whispered, “I’m gonna say this once and let it go.”
Oh Lord, what now? He was relentless, I couldn’t hack it.
“I missed you, February.”
I was right. I couldn’t hack it. The tears I was fighting back slid from my eyes and I felt my body start trembling in his arms.
“I’ll take those tears this time, seein’ as they’re for me.”
“Alec –” I whispered.
He talked over me, his gaze going from my cheeks to my eyes. “Today, you gotta worry about your funeral outfit, packin’ your shit and one more thing.”
What now?
He didn’t make me wait. “Feds wanna put us in protective custody. They offered it the other night. I’m puttin’ in the security system which’ll help with peace of mind. They protect us, it’s a guarantee this shit goes away without us feelin’ it. This isn’t a decision I can make, you gotta make it, honey. You wanna go away and wait this out, I’ll be with you. You wanna stay and live your life as normal as you can, I’ll do what I can to protect you.”
“Colt –”
“Take the day and tell me tonight.”
As what was going on finally permeated, I tipped my head to the side and stopped crying before I asked, “Is this entire conversation gonna be one-sided or are you gonna let me speak?”
“I gotta get this out and get to the Station. You speakin’ means the first one will take longer, delayin’ the second one.”
There was my answer; this conversation was going to be one-sided.
I decided to communicate non-verbally which I did, by glaring at him. He read it, it bothered him not even a little bit and I knew this because he smiled, gave me a squeeze and dropped his arms.
Then I found myself pissed that he’d just told me I was moving in with him, pretty much told me he still loved me, definitely told me he missed me and then he just let me go without kissing me.
“That’s it?” I asked as he shrugged off his blazer and threw it on the bed.
He turned his head to look at me as he pulled the badge off his belt. “What’s it?”
I looked at the ceiling and asked it, “Is it me, or was that just a momentous occasion?”
The ceiling had no answer but Colt chuckled and I glared at him again while he tossed his shoulder holster on his blazer.
“Did you ask Jessie to get muffin for me?” he asked.
I blinked, stupefied at the change of subject.
“Yes,” I replied and of course I did. I had no idea when he would be home but I knew he’d eventually be home and Jessie was going to Meems’s. No one missed out on Mimi’s muffins if they could help it. It was a crime against nature.
“Blueberry?” he asked.
Mimi made a lot of different muffins but the way she made her blueberry ones, with the crunchy sprinkles on top, made them the only way to go.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Split it in half, baby, butter it and nuke it. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I watched, frozen, as he moved to collect the coffee cup he’d put on my nightstand before he’d grabbed me earlier. He took a sip, his golden eyes on me over the rim then put it back down.
“Feb. Muffin?”
I came out of my deep freeze with a jerk and asked, “What am I? Your waitress?”
“Honey, last night, the least I earned was an omelet and you know it,” he said as he started to unbutton his shirt. “This mornin’, you can butter and nuke a muffin for me.”
This was, unfortunately, true. My Omelet a la Feb was awesome. Though it was more that he earned a waffle. My waffles were killer. The orgasm last night he’d given me while holding me up and pinned against the wall – definitely waffle material. I could butter and nuke a muffin for him.
Even so, I turned to the door, muttering, “I’m rethinking breakfast payback.”
I was two feet away from the door before his arm came around me again, I saw his other arm shoot out then I saw the door slam shut then I was turned and my body slammed against it. I lifted my chin to look at him and, a half a second later, Colt’s mouth was on mine.
In the seconds I could think clearly before the kiss took all my concentration, I knew he’d been f**king with me. That kiss was wet, hard, long and involved a goodly deal of hand exploration, both his and mine (his, mostly at my ass, mine, the same on his ass). It was the kind of kiss you had to celebrate a momentous occasion. It was the kind of kiss you never forgot your whole life.
When he broke the connection of our mouths, he rested his forehead to mine and whispered, “I’ll look forward to you making my house ours, Feb.”
Then he let me go, leaving me against the door. He walked to the nightstand, grabbed his coffee and then hit the bathroom, closing the door halfway.
I watched this whole thing, unable to move. I didn’t know what I was feeling because I never felt it in my entire life. Never. Not when we were together before. Not anytime while I grew up in a happy house with a family I loved who looked out for me. Never. I wasn’t even certain there was a word for it but, like the kiss that came just before, I knew I’d ever forget standing there at Colt’s bedroom door, feeling that startlingly miraculous feeling.
