I humand grin at her. “I have one more question for you,” I say.
“Yes?”
“Will you go to Tahoe with me for Christmas?” I’m running my fingers up and down her arm, making goose bumps erupt in their wake. “I want you to meet Rory. I want to show you where I grew up. I’d like to introduce you to my parents, even if they’re kind of an acquired taste—”
“They can’t be worse than my mom.” Her laugh draws my gaze to her lips.
“Nah, they aren’t that bad, and they’ll absolutely love you. Do you think you can get the time off?”
“Yeah, I think so. I’ll try, anyway. I’d love to go home with you and meet your family, Wes.”
“It’s not my home anymore, Joss.” I’ve known that to be true for a while now. “That’s here, with you.”
She sucks in a short breath, and the firelight catches the tears in her eyes for just a moment before she closes them, leans in, and kisses me again. I’m not sure how I manage to get to my feet, Joss in my arms wrapped in the blanket with our lips still fused together, but I do. The final embers of the fire die out as I carry her to the bungalow, footsteps creaking on the boarded steps, until I get her laid beneath me on the bed, exactly where I want her, and I find my way home.
Joss and I had to drag ourselves away from our little home away from home this morning. It was the perfect escape from the rest of theworld, a place where we could just be. We fit in a final surf, riding every wave as if it were our last, before packing up to get on the road. Then we spent the hours-long drive talking about the upcoming move, deciding it would be best for me to move into her place, since she owns all her furniture. I assumed that would be the case, so my final surprise of the weekend should work out to be the grand gesture I was going for.
I’m notcompletelyoblivious to all those romance novels Joss leaves lying around. Although they’re not my usual style, I’ve picked up some tips from them over the last few months, occasionally borrowing one while she’s away. Call it research.
When we pull up to our building, it’s with a sense of relief, a readiness. I run around the front of the truck, reaching Joss’s door before she gets the chance to open it herself. Her answering smile and small blush at the gesture don’t go unnoticed.
“Thank you.” She hops out of the truck and presses up on her toes to lightly brush her lips across mine, sending desire skittering down my spine. Will I ever get enough of her?
She grabs our bags as I hoist the surfboards out of the back and we trudge through the doors, headed to the elevator.
Frank looks up from his newspaper and smiles. “G’day, Ms. Joss. Mr. Anderson.” I’m still working on getting him to call me Wes, but I’m not holding my breath. He talks to me now, and that’s progress.
“Hi, Frank,” Joss and I say in unison, and she continues. “Enjoy what’s left of your weekend.”
We step onto the elevator and Joss lets the bags drop to the floor with a thud and a sigh.
“Maybe those four books were a bad idea?” I needle her, knowing that she’ll happily carry a heavier bag if it means she can have her books.
“Definitely not. I’m just exhausted. That last paddle out was a lot of work and my arms are limp noodles.”
She picks everything back up with a groan and we exit at our floor. My heart rate kicks up in anticipation as I lead her toward her apartment instead of stopping at mine.
“What are you doing?”
“Let’s drop your stuff off first,” I prompt, and she looks at me with suspicion but pulls out her keys to unlock the door.
When we walk into the living room, she stops dead, eyes scanning the entirety of the space.
“Wes…”
There’s a vase of fresh-cut yellow roses sitting on the dining table and another vase of them on a side table by the couch. She turns on the spot, noticing more changes to the room, where my things are placed amongst hers. My books are nestled with hers on the shelves. Even my shoes are placed by the door.
The picture of Joss and me, from the bonfire at Breck’s, is hung on the entryway wall, and surrounding it are more pictures of us. The three canvas prints I ordered to the office hang behind the dining table. A picture of Tahoe that Rory took sits in the middle—a piece of my old home to keep in my new one—flanked by ones of Joss and I surfing. Breck took those on a morning when he showed up a little later than we did for dawn patrol.
Joss turns to face me, eyes soft.
“What… how did you do this?” Her mouth hangs open slightly. Before I can answer, she walks into the bedroom where she finds a second dresser sitting beside hers, and a second chair in the corner so that we can read in the mornings. Mine is a rich navy-blue to complement her teal one. In the closet she finds my clothes hung next to hers. I continue to follow her, smiling and waiting for her to take it all in.
“Seriously, Wes, how did you do this?Whendid you do this?” she says as she walks back out of the closet, eyeing me. There’s a smile ghosting her lips, so I know she’s not mad.
“Is it okay? Do you like it?”
“Of course it’s okay, I love it. I just can’t believe you pulled this off. What would you have done if I’d said no to moving in together?”
