Page 46 of Fixed Asset

“Yup.”

“Jackpot!” She threw her arms in the air and wiggled her fingers. “I knew you were a keeper.”

I got up, helped Cat into the chair I’d vacated, and was walking to the fridge when I heard Fallon mumble, “What do you know about service Tops anyway?”

I paused to hear her answer.

“What can I say? I’m educated too.”

The men all laughed again.

I didn’t.

I was eager to hear more about this education . . . but that’d have to wait until after dinner and we didn’t have an audience.

“I can’t remember the last time I ate that much food,” Cat said.

The bed dipped next to me, and I opened my eyes.

“Sorry, were you sleeping?”

“No, just resting my eyes.” I adjusted my arm in a wordless invitation.

Cat accepted and cuddled into my side. With her head on my chest, her fingertips started making mindless patterns over my stomach. Every few seconds, she’d stop and press her fingertips into the muscle before she continued her exploration.

Exhaustion had set in. The last few hours after we finished dinner I was running on fumes. Still, if Cat’s hand didn’t stop inching lower, I’d manage to rally.

“You tired, baby?”

“I could sleep for a week,” she yawned.

I tucked her closer. I’d never been the type of man who could sleep with a body draped over my chest—but that body being Catarina’s, I’d sleep better than I had in years.

“We have a lot to talk about,” she said into the darkness.

“Yep.”

“But I’m too tired.”

I gave her a squeeze and ordered, “Sleep.”

“I just want to tell you one thing first.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll move to California.”

My arm twitched in an effort not to crush her to me.

She read my shudder wrong and quickly rushed out, “I mean if that’s where we’re going and you . . . um . . . want that.”

“I want that.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

Her fingertips glided up my chest, stopping at my left pec, then her hand flattened and she left her palm there.

“Good night, Jack.”