“My, you look comfy in there.”
Jeanne Louise opened her eyes and smiled as Paul settled on the side of the large whirlpool tub in his master bedroom and leaned to scoop up a handful of the bubbles surrounding her. They had left Marguerite’s house three days ago. No one had tried to stop them. They had all seemed to understand, and so far they hadn’t heard from Uncle Lucian, though she was sure they would soon.
Jeanne Louise had expected that Bricker and Anders would have to go with them, but they hadn’t. Instead, they’d returned to the Enforcer house, leaving she, Paul, and Livy to head out on their own. Jeanne Louise suspected she could thank her aunt for that. Marguerite had a way with Uncle Lucian.
So far things were going well. Or at least all right. Jeanne Louise had managed to force herself not to fuss so much, clamping down on the urge to intervene and carry the heavy things, or worry . . . at least out loud. But it had been hard, much harder than she’d expected, Jeanne Louise acknowledged. “Did Livy get off to sleep all right?” she asked.
“Dropped off like a dream,” Paul said with amusement, and then pointed his hand toward her and blew at the bubbles on his flat palm, sending them drifting toward her. She chuckled when they landed on her cheek and drifted down to join the others around her breasts.
“This is a big tub,” Jeanne Louise pointed out softly.
“Big enough for two,” Paul agreed with a grin.
“So why don’t you join me.”
Paul grinned. “You just want to see me strip.”
“Darn right,” she assured him and arched one eyebrow. “So. You gonna do it?”
Chuckling, he stood and headed for the door, saying, “Nah. We might both drown in the tub when we fainted, or at least I would,” Paul added wryly. “Besides, I had a shower before making dinner, remember? I think I’ll go build a fire in the fireplace in the bedroom and wait for you.” Glancing over his shoulder, he added, “Don’t take too long. I might fall asleep waiting.”
“I’ll keep that in mind as I soap every inch of my body here all by myself,” Jeanne Louise taunted with a sad moue.
“Don’t forget to rinse. Soap doesn’t taste good and I plan on licking every inch of you when you get out,” he teased right back.
“You can try,” Jeanne Louise said on a snort of laughter. That darned life mate shared passion made such efforts impossible at this stage of the game.
“I intend to,” Paul assured her. “And I will keep trying until I succeed. It might take a decade or two, but—” He shrugged. “I’ll have fun trying.”
Jeanne Louise chuckled at the claim and picked up the soap and washcloth, now eager to clean herself and get out of the bath.
Paul was whistling under his breath as he opened the grate to the fireplace. Turning toward the log holder, he started to bend to collect a couple, but then paused as he saw that there was only one in it. He almost didn’t bother with a fire then. It was summer, the air-conditioning was on for heaven’s sake. They didn’t really need a fire. It had just seemed a nice romantic gesture, a bottle of wine, a fire, soft music . . . Mind you, the air-conditioning was good when you were clothed, but it could get a bit chilly when they were all naked and sweaty.
Paul shifted briefly on his feet and then turned and headed out of the bedroom. He’d cut a couple logs, and build a small fire. Just big enough to set the mood, offer ambient lighting and to take the chill off. He wanted to make tonight special. Things had been a bit stiff and awkward between them since his blowup at Marguerite’s after playing soccer. Paul knew Jeanne Louise had only been worrying about him, and felt bad for what he’d said that afternoon. It was true, of course. He did feel like the weak one in the relationship at times. But then he was, physically, and knew it. Unfortunately, her coddling and fussing just made it worse, but Paul knew she coddled and fussed because she cared. They would work it out. They had to.
Frowning at the desperation of his own thoughts, he jogged lightly downstairs and headed up the hall to the kitchen. Boomer was immediately rising from his spot by the back door, tail wagging and whining.
“You want out for a bit?” Paul asked the dog as he stopped at the kitchen closet to retrieve the small axe he kept inside.
Taking the frantic tail wagging and yip as a doggy yes, Paul smiled and closed the closet door, then led the animal to the back door, warning, “It’s a short run only, buddy. I’m splitting a couple logs and then I’m back inside whether you’re ready or not, so make it quick.”
Boomer burst out of the door before he had it fully open. Chuckling under his breath, Paul followed him out and then moved to the left to the large stump with several more logs laid out beside it. They were the remains of a tree a winter storm had taken down six months earlier. Fortunately, it had fallen away from the house or Paul would have had the beginnings of a terrarium in his kitchen.
Grimacing at the thought, he picked up one of the logs, set it on the stump, and set to work. He’d split it in half and had set one half back on the stump, holding it upright with his left hand while swinging the small axe with his right when Boomer caught him by surprise and jumped on him from out of nowhere.
The action startled him, jerking his body and putting his aim off. The axe had gone through the pad below his thumb and sunk itself in the wood before he registered what had happened. The pain began a heartbeat later, slamming through him like a sledgehammer as the blood began to gush.
Cursing, he slid his hand out from around the axe and clutched it to his chest with his other hand, instinctively holding it up as he hurried for the house.
Jeanne Louise stepped into the bedroom and let the towel she’d wrapped around her drop, then blinked and glanced around with surprise. Paul wasn’t there.
“Well, hell,” she muttered, bending to pick up her towel and wrap it around her again. So much for her grand entrance, she thought wryly. He’d probably gone for wine or something, she thought moving farther into the room and then pausing when she saw the open grate in front of the fireplace. Her gaze slid to the lone log in the log holder and then she turned and crossed the room to the sliding glass doors to peer out. Sure enough, there he was, splitting logs, she saw, and then glanced to the side as she noted Boomer rushing toward him. She saw it happening, but didn’t see it coming. Boomer raced excitedly to Paul, lunged eagerly up to brace his paws on Paul’s leg. Paul glanced around with a start mid-swing, his arm going a little wild and then glanced sharply back to what he was doing as the axe landed.
For one second he didn’t move and she wasn’t sure if everything was all right or not, but then he released the axe, raised his gushing hand and clutched it to his chest as he rushed for the house. Heart in her throat, Jeanne Louise hurried from the room and rushed downstairs, arriving in the kitchen as he reached the sink and turned the tap on. Her gaze slid over the trail of blood from the back door and then she grabbed a dish towel and rushed to his side.
“Let me see.”
“It’s fine,” Paul muttered, holding his hand under the water. “It didn’t hit bone. It just got the fatty pad under my thumb.”