Raid - By Kristen Ashley Page 0,61

something dreamy was simply calling me “baby”, and I forgot he could be not-so-dreamy.

“Where are you?” he went on.

“At home,” I answered.

“Things cool in town?” he asked.

“Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, seeing as she had two jobs to do and she was getting paid for both; Heather was totally on top of things. It’s going to stink, having to put together my shipments again, but I’m not behind.”

“Excellent,” he muttered then continued. “I’m just headin’ outta Denver. Be home in about forty. I’ll pick you up. We’ll go to Rache’s for dinner.”

“Uh… I already put a chicken in the oven.”

“Right, then be there in forty.”

I didn’t exactly ask him to dinner but it seemed he didn’t exactly care.

“Raid—” I began, but he interrupted me.

“See you soon.”

Then he was gone.

I stared at my phone.

Okay then, I’d talk to him at dinner, and I promised myself I would talk to him at dinner.

I dealt with things in the kitchen. After I did that, I opened a bottle of white wine, poured myself a glass, got my wool and headed out to the front porch.

I was swaying sideways on my swing, one leg bent, my foot in the seat. The outside of my leg was resting against the back of the swing. The other leg was down, tips of my toes swaying me. The makings of an afghan were in my lap and Carole King was coming soft through the windows of my living room when the Jeep pulled up.

I watched it, steeling myself to do what I promised, and I kept steeling myself as Raiden unfolded his body encased in tan cargo pants, tight hunter green tee and boots out of the Jeep. I continued steeling myself as he slowly walked up the steps, eyes on me and stopped at the post by the stairs.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey,” he said back in a way that that one word glided across the space and wrapped warm and snug around me like one of my afghans.

I quit steeling.

But I did make to move, saying, “You want a—?”

“Don’t move.”

I settled because there was a command to his voice, but it was different. It was like the way he said “hey” except more. A lot more. I stayed where I was, eyes glued to him, feeling funny in a way so good, it was absofuckingmazing good.

When he just stood there, his eyes moving over me, I asked softly, “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

His eyes came to mine. His body slanted to the side so his shoulder was resting against the post and he replied, “You, just like that, any man would fight and die for the privilege of comin’ home to that every day.”

My breath left me in a soft, audible “oof”, like Spot had jumped up on my chest.

Raiden wasn’t done.

“Better, she accepts you just as you are, then makes a special coffeecake with apples and doesn’t skimp on the streusel, which is the best part. All that to celebrate you givin’ her your trust and her givin’ hers right back to you.”

Tears crawled up my throat and started clawing the backs of my eyes, so my voice was husky when I whispered, “Raiden.”

“And you know, she learned at the hand of Miss Mildred, the chicken in the oven is gonna rock your world.”

It totally was. Grams taught me everything she knew, but my Mom was also no slouch in the kitchen.

“Please stop talking,” I begged.

He didn’t.

“Fight and die for that privilege, Hanna.”

I swallowed back tears then warned, “If you don’t shut up, you’re going to make me cry.”

Raiden shut up, but didn’t move. He just stood there staring at me.

So I asked what I was going to ask before, “Honey, do you want a beer?”

“I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

He pushed away from the post and walked into the house.

I did not find the courage to talk to him about my concerns about our morning conversation.

No, the truth was that sharing my concerns didn’t once enter my mind.

* * * * *

That night…

Raiden was back on his calves, his hips powering up. I was straddling him, back to his front, his arms around me, his hands moving everywhere.

I was unraveling.

His hand slid down then glided across my belly, and not even thinking about it, my hand covered his and slid it up.

Taking mine with it, his slid back down to my belly.

I slid it up.

His hand stilled then glided to my side, down and in. My hand still over his, I felt his middle finger press in, circle.