Page 56 of Married to the Enemy

A house. A dog. Kids. Siblings for Freddy, chaos and laughter filling every hallway. It all made sense now, like the last piece of a puzzle snapping into place.

He strode upstairs, his body heavy with exhaustion, but also lighter than it had ever felt. Pausing at her doorway, he peeked in. Empty.

A grin tugged at his mouth.

He pushed open his own door and, sure enough, there she was, curled up, dead center of his bed, tangled in the blankets like she’d claimed it. Claimed him.

“Little brat,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Of course, she’d choose the middle.

Stripping off his clothes, he got ready for bed, anticipation humming through him. He’d wanted to thank her properly for the pizza and beer, to hear those soft, breathy sounds she made when he touched her, when he drove her out of her mind. He wanted that again, wanted her again.

But when he pulled back the covers, he realized she was sound asleep. Her eyes were closed, her lashes just brushing her cheeks, her lips soft and parted, her breathing steady. Peaceful and serene.

Smiling, he slipped into bed beside her and pulled her against him. She fit perfectly, like she’d been designed for this spot in his arms.

The lights off, the house silent around them, he lay there staring up at the ceiling. For once, he wasn’t mapping escape routes or running scenarios through his mind. He was thinking about tomorrow. About everything he wanted to build with her.

“You get something to eat?” she mumbled suddenly, her voice thick with sleep, as she burrowed closer to his warmth.

“Yeah,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

She muttered something he couldn’t catch—half words, half dream-speech—but it was so damn adorable he couldn’t stop himself from stroking her hair. Soft. Silken. His.

Then, he realized what had to be done.

“I’ll need to drive to Chicago tomorrow,” he whispered thoughtfully, more to himself than to her.

“We can pack a picnic lunch!” she agreed sleepily, then flung a leg over his thigh in a move that nearly unmanned him.

“Son of a—” he caught her knee just in time, saving his future children from a painful end. His heart lurched as he frowned at her sleeping form, even as she nuzzled closer to his chest, like she hadn’t just nearly castrated him in his own bed.

But then his brain replayed her words.

She wanted to come to Chicago with him?

His chest went tight.

Oh, hell no!

Chapter 41

“You’re not coming,” Raffe announced the following morning. He was standing in the kitchen with his hands braced on his hips, using his best FBI-agent voice, the one that usually made criminals flinch. Unfortunately, Mia was immune. She simply hummed under her breath and kept packing the fabric bag with what she cheerfully called “snacks for their trip”.

Freddy shuffled into the kitchen, his steps a little uneven. Raffe’s hand shot out automatically, steadying him until he found his balance.

“You seriously going to try to stop her from going with you?” Freddy asked, shaking his head as he walked toward the pantry to grab his favorite cereal.

“She’s not coming,” Raffe snapped. “It’s too dangerous.”

Evangeline snorted while pulling two bowls down from the cabinet, then headed for the table. “You won’t let anyone hurt her,” Evangeline said serenely, as if she were commenting on the weather. She reached into the fridge for the milk, poured herself a bowl, then joined Freddy at the table. She picked up the bowl of sugar and started shoveling spoonful after spoonful into her bowl.

By the fourth spoonful, Raffe groaned, walked over, and plucked the sugar bowl out of Evangeline’s hands. He passed it to Freddy instead, giving him “the look”.

Meanwhile, Mia collected the snack bag and the cooler. She grunted under the weight, and Raffe immediately stomped over and took both from her hands, trying to regain control of the situation. “You’re not going!”

“It’s a six-hour trip,” Mia said, ignoring him completely as she turned to Evangeline. “Can I trust you to be in charge of Freddy’s schoolwork? He starts back next week, and you know he worries about falling behind.”

“Of course, dear,” Evangeline replied, waving her spoon like a royal scepter. “He’s doing great. The teacher has already complimented his efforts. You two should just go and have a good time.” She took a dramatic pause, then added, “But for that long of a trip, you really should pack an overnight bag and stay in a hotel. It’s not safe to drive so many hours in a single day.”