In A Fix - Mary Calmes Page 0,74
but only a baby one.”
His glare could have cut glass.
I threw up my hands in defeat.
“I’m gonna go shower. I’ll be right out.”
“Hey,” I said before he could leave the room.
“What?” he snarled.
“The fact that you’re worried about me means a lot.”
His breath came out ragged. “I just…found you.”
I understood, because I felt the same.
“We’re gonna be okay, I swear.”
“Well, anything happens and I get hurt, or you get hurt, our asses are convalescing right here at home.”
Home.
How could it be that Chicago didn’t feel like home for me anymore? Why I could imagine my life fitting seamlessly with his, in this little house, made no sense. But how could my home ever be a place where Dallas Bauer was not?
“You’re gonna play nurse for me if I get hurt?”
“Doctor and nurse both,” he teased me, allowing me to change the subject before either of us got pulled into a conversation we weren’t prepared to have.
He was almost at the hall, ready to make the left toward his bedroom.
“Hey.”
His hand was on the wall as he turned to look at me.
“I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”
“When?” he asked, and I noted how warm his gaze was. “In the back of my car, or in the middle of the night when I attacked you?”
“Is it really attacking, though, if I get up to pee and you pass me the lube when I get back in bed?”
“Maybe not.”
“I think that would be classified as more of an invitation, but still,” I said, taking a breath, “I wasn’t gentle with you.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“And so?”
“Did I ask you to be gentle or careful or anything else?”
“I just don’t want you to think that wild in bed is the only gear we have.”
He nodded. “I think we’re brand fuckin’ new, and once we both get all the claiming out of our systems and know, for sure, that neither of us is going to up and disappear tomorrow, then we’ll find the tenderness too.”
That made sense. Since I’d never been in a relationship, I couldn’t speak to what that looked like. I would have to defer to him.
“You’ll be my first.”
“Your first what?”
“Grown-up relationship.”
His smile was instant and bright. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Of everyone you’ve ever met, you’ve only thought, ‘yeah, I’ll get on a plane twice a month for him,’ about me.”
“Twice a month?”
He snorted. “Yes, asshole. Two Fridays a month, you fly; two Fridays a month, I fly. Those are the rules.”
“When did we decide this?”
“You think it should be less?”
“I didn’t say that. When did I say that?”
He squinted. “You questioned.”
I crossed my arms.
“We’ll see each other every week, two and two. Think of all the frequent flyer miles you’ll rack up.”
I grunted.
“Or you can just go back to Chicago and forget about me.”
The silence felt heavy.
“No,” I countered, not taking the bait, not letting him get rid of me or go fishing for declarations of love, no matter how much I was goaded. He wasn’t getting either—no freedom and no ring. His choice, take it or leave it, was us navigating new waters together. I wanted to make sure he took it. “I’m not about to miss out on spending time with you just because I don’t like to fly.”
He tipped his head. “This is new. Tell me why you don’t like to fly.”
“Are you kidding?”
He laced his fingers on top of his head, a grin curling that beautiful mouth of his. He was waiting to be amused at my expense.
“It’s a giant piece of metal,” I enlightened him, “and the only thing keeping it from falling out of the sky, and me with it, is that the engines don’t fail.”
The look on his face told me he thought I was adorable.
“This is a true statement,” I confirmed.
“For a person who’s supposed to be so logical, you sure do dream up a good disaster scenario.”
“You know what, go take a shower.”
“I was trying to, but you waylaid me with stupid questions, and then concerns about air travel,” he goaded me with a snicker before he left me alone in the room.
I had to pull up some statistics for him on air travel.
“Hey.”
He was back, leaning around the corner, smiling at me.
“It’s gonna be great, seeing each other every week. We’ll always have something to look forward to.”
I nodded.
“Maybe come kiss me for that wonderful observation.”
So I did.
We drove to the house in Summerlin, in the Suburban that had been dropped off for us to use, the blackout windows and black paint