going to do that. I realise I’m kind of prickly. I’m, um, trying not to be.”
Evan smiled slightly. “I don’t know about that. I like prickly.”
Ruth blinked. She actually looked surprised—not just surprised, but really, truly shocked.
Which bothered Evan beyond reason, because she shouldn’t be surprised that he didn’t want her to change. Or rather, she shouldn’t be surprised that anyone wouldn’t want her to change. “I like you,” he explained. “A lot. And you’re prickly, so I like prickly. That’s it.”
After a moment, Ruth’s tentative smile returned. “Well, okay. I suppose I like you too.”
Evan rolled his eyes. “You love me. I bet you knocked over a mountain of comics just to get my attention.”
“I certainly did not! No man is worth that disorganisation.”
“Really?” He arched a brow.
She managed to hold back her laughter for a second or two before a rogue giggle escaped. And then she kicked him, very gently, which was almost her version of a hug.
So Evan gave in to the urgings of his heart and pulled her in for an actual hug. She made a strangled little noise, but she came, and she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight.
“I don’t want to argue,” Evan murmured, burying his face in her hair. He had to bend at an awkward angle to do it, but it was worth it to breath in that coconut scent. “Ever.”
Her voice was muffled against his chest, but he still heard the humour there. “I think arguments are a necessary part of—” Abruptly, she broke off. But then, after a moment, she continued: “A necessary part of any relationship.”
Evan pulled back slightly, grasping her shoulders. He looked down at her carefully impassive face and said, “By relationship, you mean…”
Ruth shrugged.
With a slow smile, he said, “So what you’re saying is, ‘Evan, we’re in a relationship.’”
She rolled her eyes. “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you should just ask. Don’t be shy.” She reached up on her tiptoes and patted his head. Then, eyes dancing, she hurried off down the hall.
He followed. Of course he followed.
Ruth couldn’t quite believe her own daring, but she wasn’t complaining about it. Turned out, everything was easier when you opened your mouth and words came out, and you didn’t cut them off halfway.
Evan followed her into the bedroom, probably thinking that they were about to have riotous reunion sex or some such nonsense. They weren’t, of course. She wasn’t quite that far gone.
Although… he stood in the doorway, and Ruth eyed the thick outline of his dick against his thigh, visible thanks to the soft, jersey material of his clothes.
Maybe she was that far gone.
He squinted over at her bed and said, “What the hell happened?”
Oh, yes. Now she remembered why she’d actually brought him in here.
“My bed collapsed.”
He walked over to the pile of wood, dislodged mattress and rumpled bedding, his brows raised. “Yeah. I can see that.”
“So why’d you ask?”
He shot her a wry smile, reaching out to tug on her braid. “Quiet, you.” Then he crouched down and lifted the mattress with one powerful arm, which should not have made her core tighten or her pulse spike, but did. Maybe because he was shirtless, and she could see every muscle in his back shift as he did it. Maybe because she was quite pathetically in love with him.
What?
Nothing. Look at the muscles.
Ruth obeyed the more sensible of the two voices in her head and moved on. “Can you fix it?”
“Is that what you think?” He threw a grin over her shoulder. “That I can fix it?”
“Are you saying you can’t? Because I’d really hoped to sleep in a bed tonight.”
For a moment, he was silent. Then he stood, dusting off his hands, and said, “You could sleep in mine.”
Ruth gave him a look. “Oh I could, could I? How chivalrous.”
“I’m not being chivalrous. Who put that bed together, by the way?”
She said, “Daniel.” Then she thought, Oops.
But nothing bad happened. Lightning didn’t strike, and Evan didn’t stop moving toward her. He slid an arm around her waist and said, “Daniel did a very poor job.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. He’s bad at following instructions.”
“I bet.” His lips quirked, and then he raised a hand to Ruth’s face and stroked her cheek. Soft, slow, reverent. He said, “I’d like to sleep with you. And I do mean sleep.”
She licked her lips. “Why?”
“Because I want to hold you, and I want to know how you look when you wake up in the morning.”