Page 60 of Dance in the Stones

“He can handle it,” Damon said quietly.

Redford’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know what it is.”

“It doesn’t matter. Wilson’s competent. You told me yourself he’s ready for more responsibility.” Damon sipped his coffee. “Why are you always the one solving every problem?”

“Technically, it’s my job.”

“Technically, you’re on extended leave, and you promised barely a week or so ago to hand in your resignation. I didn’t see that mentioned on your to-do list.”

What Redford wanted was to stop feeling guilty about the idea of leaving work. He genuinely wanted to trust that Wilson and the others could function without him, but…

Conscious of Damon still watching him, he set his phone face-down on the counter.

“Thank you,” Damon said.

“For what?”

“For choosing to be here instead of there.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Redford crossed to the table, dropping into the chair across from Damon. Through their bond, he felt his mate’s bone-deep conviction that what they were doing together mattered more than any case file.

“I feel guilty,” Redford admitted.

“About work?”

“About us.” Redford forced himself to keep his eyes open and on his mate. “We’ve been mated for weeks, and I’ve never once taken you on a proper date or even taken you out for dinner. We work together, sleep together, and save crumbling towers together, but I haven’t courted you. Even when I said I was, before you knew we were fated, you were working as part of the construction crew. I haven’t even bought you flowers.”

Damon’s expression softened. “Red…”

“You deserve flowers, candlelight, boxes of chocolate, or at least someone putting effort into winning your heart instead of just” - Redford gestured helplessly - “falling into bed together because we couldn’t help ourselves.”

“I don’t recall it going quite like that,” Damon said with a laugh. “If it makes you feel any better, hellhounds are chronically terrible at dating. Ask any of my pack brothers’ mates. We’re direct, possessive, and we show love through protection and providing, not flower arrangements.”

“That’s not an excuse for me being equally terrible.”

“You’re not terrible.” Damon reached across the table, covering Redford’s hand with his own. “You make my coffee exactly how I like it. You reinforce the castle’s wards every night, so Finn and Kara stay safe. You’ve become Warner’s favorite uncle, especially when he’s fussy – humming for him until he calms down.”

“Those aren’t romantic gestures for you…”

“They’re your form of love language.” Damon squeezed his fingers. “Practical, everyday love that shows how much I matter to you. You notice what I need before I ask.” His thumb traced circles over Redford’s knuckles. “I don’t need candlelit dinners to know you’re committed.”

“But you deserve them anyway.”

“Maybe.” Damon grinned. “I guess you’ll have to take me somewhere fancy when we’re not locked in by an overprotective castle.”

Redford laughed, and as he did, the tension in his chest eased, replaced by affection, acceptance, and the knowledge that Damon saw his flaws and loved him regardless.

“We’re terrible at this,” Redford muttered.

“At what?”

“Being mates and taking time for ourselves. Actually talking instead of just working side by side.”

“We’ve had a lot going on.” Damon stood, tugging Redford up with him. “But come on then. If we’re stuck here, we might as well make the most of it.”

“Meaning?” Redford was feeling better already, and he was secretly hoping the castle would realize that and let them go.

“Meaning we talk,” Damon said firmly. “Really talk about things that are important to you and me, not necessarily this castle or the sanctuary.”