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“All set.” She smiles, and I swear the tilt of those lips has a direct line to my heart, and it squeezes every single time she points that smile in my direction.
I pull back out on the road. Mindful of my passenger, I stay off the throttle. “So you spent the day cleaning?” I ask her.
“Yes. I had just finished the cookies and mopping the kitchen when the power went out. I got all my laundry done and the entire apartment cleaned before it happened. The only thing I didn’t clean was me.”
I can help with that.“I need to do that too. That was the plan for tomorrow, but now I’ll just have to put it off.”
“Brooks! If you had plans, you shouldn’t be picking me up and hauling me around.”
“You’re more fun.” I should tell her that I missed her, but I keep that to myself. I know that’s not what this is supposed to be, but I missed her all the same.
“Well, I’m already a sweaty mess, so I’ll help you clean before I shower.”
“No. You’re a guest.”
“And your plans for the weekend were hijacked. Really, I don’t mind cleaning. I want to help you.”
“We’ll see,” I say.
“Nope. Either you help me, or I go home.”
“What if I refuse to take you?”
“I can call Ramsey, or Deacon, or hell, one of your brothers.”
“And how will you explain the fact that you’re with me?” I want her to say she doesn’t give a shit if they find out. I hate hiding her, hiding us, but I agreed to this ridiculous plan. What I was thinking, I don’t know. It’s been weeks, and we’re still hiding.
“Dammit,” she mutters.
“Have you had dinner?” I ask, ignoring the twinge of disappointment that she can’t read my mind.
“Do cookies count?”
“No. Cookies don’t count. I made spaghetti last night. There are leftovers. I think I even have a box of garlic bread in the freezer.”
“You don’t have to feed me too.”
I reach over and grab her hand, placing it on my thigh, before putting mine back on the wheel. “I want to feed you, Palmer. Just let me, okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees softly. She’s quiet for a few minutes, and the rain continues to fall angrily from the sky. “It’s really coming down.” Her hand grips my thigh as if she’s scared, and I hate that I really need to keep both hands on the wheel and can’t cover hers with mine to comfort her.
“It is, but I’ve got this.”
“I trust you.”
Three words that I never really cared to hear from a woman before. There’s never been a woman in my life who has been around long enough for me to care if she thought that she could trust me. For some reason, with Palmer, it’s important. I like knowing that I have her trust, and I find that she has mine, which is not something I give women. At least not until her.
Finally, I turn into my driveway and hit the garage door opener. It opens with ease, and I pull my truck inside and hit the button to shut the door, closing the noise of the rain outside with it.
“We made it.” I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles.
“Safe and sound.” She smiles, her shoulders relaxing.
“Let’s get you fed,” I tell her. We both climb out of the truck and make our way into the house, kicking our shoes off in the laundry room.
“You warm up dinner while I start cleaning,” Palmer says, letting her bag drop off her shoulder and land on the laundry room floor.
“Palmer, you’re not cleaning my house.”
