Code Name: Ghost - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,45
understand the level of doubt I have within myself. Am I taking advantage of her? Is she truly ready for this, regardless of the self-confidence she portrays?
Most of all, can I let her walk this path with me—the man who is responsible for her husband lying cold in a grave?
I start to turn away from the door, but, to my shock, it swings open. Anna stands there, appearing beyond beautiful. She changed out of the dress she’d worn to work. Now, she has on a pair of flowing pants with a long-sleeved sweater that hangs off one shoulder. Thick, fuzzy socks adorn her feet. Her hair is piled messily on top of her head, and she’s holding a beer.
“I heard you out here pacing,” she says with a soft smile. “Watched you through the peephole for a bit—saw your indecision. Figured I’d try to lure you in with a beer.”
Christ, that’s fucking cute.
“Okay, yes,” I admit as I take the beer from her before entering the apartment. “I’m all up in my head.”
“Figured,” she replies pertly as she heads into the kitchen. I smell tomato sauce and garlic as I follow along behind.
“Where’s Avery?” I ask.
“Sleeping. Which, if you know anything about babies at all, you know… they sleep a lot. And eat. And poop.”
“But they’re damn cute,” I point out, taking a sip of my beer.
Laughing, she glances over her shoulder. “So very cute. She’s actually sleeping three-to-five-hour stretches at a time now, which definitely helps with my own beauty sleep.”
There’s a pot of boiling water on the stove, already boiling around spaghetti noodles, and she gives it a stir. Beside it, another pot bubbling with a tangy-smelling red sauce. The light on in the oven showcases a pan of garlic bread, and my stomach growls with anticipation.
“That had to have been hard.” The soft tone of my voice has her eyes coming to me in question. “A baby all on your own. Up every few hours to care for her with no help.”
Anna smiles, giving a slight shrug. “While I would love to be one of those martyr mothers who will one day hang it over Avery’s head how much I sacrificed for her, I have to tell you… she’s a pretty easy baby. Yes, she cries when she’s hungry, so yes, I have to wake up and feed her. But she goes right back to sleep, and she’s really a happy kid. Doesn’t cry a lot other than if she’s hungry or she has poop in her diaper.”
It makes me glad to hear it, so I can’t help but say, “I’ve heard when you have a really easy baby, it means they’ll be hellions in their teens.”
“God, I hope not.” When Anna laughs, I join her. A reminder of how incredibly easy it is to fall into comfortable conversation with her, despite the fact we have some heavy things hanging over us. That says something.
Or maybe it doesn’t since Anna sets down the wooden spoon she’d been stirring the pasta with, then turns the stove off. She shifts to face me, hands on hips, and I’m immediately on guard by her uneasy expression.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She glances away, face turning red as she shakes her head. “It’s stupid.”
“I promise it’s not,” I assure her, making a firm mental note not to laugh, no matter what she says.
Anna’s head tips up, and she looks miserable. “It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about the kiss, okay? It almost knocked me over—”
“Which one?” I interrupt. “There were two instances.”
“The one in the gym today, but the first one was awesome, too.”
“Got it,” I reply with a nod, up to speed on things.
“I know we need to talk about it… about us. About whatever the heck this is—about what it means and how to be comfortable with it. Which is why I thought making you dinner and having a rational discussion would be the way to go. So, I made spaghetti, which seemed like a good idea because it’s easy and not over-involved, if you know what I mean. Plus, I didn’t really have time to go shopping after work, and I had these ingredients—”
“Anna,” I interrupt again, since she’s rambling from nerves and refusing to get to the point.
She takes a deep breath, blushing so deeply I bet her cheeks are warm to the touch. “It’s just… I want you to kiss me again. I want that more than I want to talk to you right now, and I’m afraid