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Almost there…
He’ll crack first, he always does, and having not seen me in a week… should be any second now.
My broody, bossy Cabot’s only weakness? Me.
“Cole get a hug?” Crack. He begrudgingly changes the subject to what he actually cares about, taking a few steps toward me.
My lips twitch, dying to smile at his advance of surrender, knowing he’ll bring along the sweet rewards of victory. “Mhmm,” I hum, slowly nodding.
Another step, putting him close enough now for me to inhale his signature scent of fresh masculinity. “Then why the hell are my arms still empty? You waitin’ on an invitation?”
“I could ask you the same,” I try to sass right back, falling just a bit shy of sassy with my entranced whisper.
Something’s… different about Cabot. I haven’t had time to start figuring out what yet, but it’s definitely there—a shift —in him, in us.
“I don’t need a fucking invitation. You’re my Minnow. I’ll hold you any goddamn time I want.” With one authoritative, sexy as hell move, he hoists me up and snug against his divinely solid body. A big man, my head barely comes to his chin, so he has to lean back in order to peer down at me, making sure I see his cocky grin. “Any objections?”
“None.” It’s but a breath.
“Glad to hear it.” That grin grows, his hold on me tightening, as he rests his forehead on mine. “I missed you, Emery.”
He pauses, his deep breaths felt as though my own, while he searches my eyes… looking for gravity. Verification that I truly understood the weight of his confession.
I did.
“Nothin’ felt right without our girl here. Promise me you’re done with the world travelin’, abandoning us.”
As badly as I want to laugh at his theatrics—I took one trip, in the same country and time zone—deceitful sorrow takes the forefront.
I can’t bring myself to do it… promise him, or lie straight to his face. So I quickly cover, forging a soft giggle and giving his chest a playful pat. “Cabot Keller, you better watch out. The real you and all your sweetness is starting to show.”
He hugs me impossibly closer, his mouth finding my ear, warm breath and smoky timbre beckoning goose bumps to cover my body as he whispers, “Only for you, Minnow. I’ll only ever show you.”
****
“You sure you don’t wanna go eat, hang out, something?” Cole pouts, adorably, when we get to my house. “You just got home, Em, and you’re already disappearing again. Gotta say, not likin’ whatever fuckin’ phase this is you’re going through.”
“Oh, stop,” I laugh. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, bright and early, promise. In fact, how about I make us a big, reunion breakfast? Sound good?”
“Not as good as a reunion dinner and movie marathon, now, does,” he grouches.
“Jesus, Cole, enough,” Cabot snaps, shaking his head. “Lady wants to be alone. Accept it, quit your bellyaching, and make yourself useful. Grab her bag while I walk her to the door.”
“Or, I have a better idea,” Cole sneers, “how about you go fuck yourself?”
Funny (except not really funny) thing is, Cabot’s the one most upset right now —but he’d just as soon have his leg chopped off before admitting it. His brooding may be done in silence, but I hear it, feel it, rolling off him in tidal swells. But I’m as used to it as I am their banter, so I leave them to it and go unlock the front door, flipping on a few lights and taking in my quaint little cottage with a whimsical sigh.
Within seconds, Cole’s right behind me, still grumbling to himself as he sets my things down in the living room. Then, punishing me… in the only way he’s capable, he gives me a tense hug and peck on the cheek… incapable of being anything short of kind and gallant, even when upset. “Welcome home, Em. See ya at breakfast. I’ll be waiting in the truck, again.” And out he stomps.
“He just missed ya, is all.” Cabot’s deep voice snags my focus from Cole’s pronounced departure back to him. “He’ll be good as new by breakfast.”
“I know.” I nod. “And you? Mad at me too?”
“Why would I be? I get it. Been away from your house, your space, stuck on a plane with a bunch of sweaty, smelly strangers; you want a breather. And, knowing you, I’d say… a hot bath, those ugly-ass flower pajamas you love, a book, and your own bed. Am I right?” He can’t help his prideful smirk.
“Eh, you get an ‘A’ for effort,” I snicker. “I packed those beautiful pajamas, so they’re dirty, and I’m too tired for a book. Excellent try, though.” A low rumble of defeat rattles his chest and I bite down on my laugh—if I goad the beast any further, we’ll be here all night.
“Lock the door behind me,” he demands, extra sternly… his consolation.
“I will.”
“Right behind me.”
“Yes, Cabot, I know.”
. Hall
