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‘If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.’
I grin at him, half expecting him to start laughing and tell me he’s kidding. A few moments pass before I realize he’s not joking at all. I bring the pad of my finger to my lips and kiss it, then place it back on his scar. He turns his head, eyes on me, and kisses my finger, too. I smile and drag my touch to his nose, circling the bridge where it bends slightly. He crosses his eyes to watch my finger, and I laugh beneath him, jerking him on my tummy. ‘And this?’
‘My daughter cracked me with the handle of an axe when I was teaching her to chop wood.’
My finger pauses. ‘Ouch.’
‘Blood everywhere. Cabbage thought I was going to die.’
I smile, wide and amused. ‘Why’d you call her Cabbage?’
‘Because her mother hates it,’ he says easily, and with no remorse. ‘And because she stank when she was a baby.’
A small laugh escapes me, and I lie here, naked, with a naked man sprawled across me, imagining Ryan with a baby girl. There’s something very endearing about it. And very sexy. He’s a good father. That’s a great measure of any man. I remember everything Molly told me about Ryan and how Cabbage came into his life. ‘You’re a good man,’ I say, and he smiles, his eyes falling to my boobs, a wolfish smirk forming before he takes a cheeky bite.
I yelp on a laugh as he crawls off me and tugs me onto my side to mirror him, his hand on my hip holding me in place. ‘She wasn’t planned, but everything happens for a reason.’
‘I hate that saying,’ I blurt before I can think twice. But I do hate it. It’s bollocks. Anger rises in me, hot and unstoppable. ‘What’s the reason for the bump on my nose?’ I ask Ryan quietly, my mouth running away with me. ‘What’s the reason for me living a life under the ra—’ I cut myself short, withdrawing a fraction.
‘Radar,’ Ryan finishes for me, and I look away, kicking myself. ‘Hey.’ He grabs my face and tugs me back to where he wants me. ‘The reason for the bump on your nose is because I love it.’ Leaning in, he kisses it, and I press my lips together, my hand coming to my face to cover my crazy smile. Ryan soon pulls it away. ‘And the reason for you living life under the radar is because you were destined to be found by me.’
I’m not smiling now, and I don’t think I’m breathing, either. ‘Ryan . . .’ Ryan, what?
‘Simple as that.’ Grabbing me, he rolls to his back and arranges me on his front, pushing me up to sit astride him. ‘Now, what are you cooking me for breakfast?’
My smile is back, brighter than before. That’s it. End of discussion. He could press me. Ask questions. Demand answers. Yet he won’t. He’ll never know how thankful I am. ‘So I’m staying?’ I ask, wanting nothing more than to spend the entire night with him, cuddled up close.
‘Yes.’ Taking my hands, he threads our fingers. ‘Because I need breakfast.’
I gasp, though Ryan, miraculously, keeps a deadpan expression. ‘You should make me breakfast. Whatever happened to chivalry?’
‘Whatever happened to looking after your man?’ he counters cheekily, his face still poker-straight.
‘My man?’ I ask, interested, though loving the sound of it.
‘Well, I don’t belong to anyone else.’ His big shoulders shrug against the pillow. ‘Just putting that out there.’
If electricity was run on smiles, the world would be short-circuiting right about now, because mine is epic. ‘I don’t belong to anyone, either.’ I bite my lip, my finger circling his belly button. ‘Just putting that out there.’
He nods agreeably on a little pout. ‘Then I’d better stake my claim before someone else does.’
‘Me too.’ Our grins collide, and Ryan shoots up, tackling me to the other end of the bed. I yelp, disoriented when I come to rest. I don’t get the chance to gather my bearings. His lips are on mine, staking his claim.Chapter 12RYAN
My bed. God, I love my bed. I know the smell, where to find the cool patches, every dip and lump and how many times I can roll before I reach the edge. Three. That’s from the middle. I sleep in the middle. Two pillows – goose feather, of course. One leg out of the covers, too.
I feel myself coming around, slowly waking, and I quickly register the absence of everything familiar about my bed. It smells different. I inhale the scent of raspberries as I shift my leg. No cool patch. I slide my hand out from beneath the pillow, feeling that the edge of the bed is close. No way I’m rolling three times this morning. My neck is sore because I only have one pillow. And there are no covers on me at all.
