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He nods again. “Yes.”
I blink, so fucking confused and wondering if I’m still in that damn hospital bed, dying of fever. “Wow.”
He lets out another laugh. “Guess my cock isn’t the only way to shut you up.”
I reach out to smack him, and he grabs my wrist, pulling me close until our bodies line up perfectly. The sweet kiss he drops on my lips is so soft, so gentle that I can feel my eyes sting with unshed tears. I moan when he pulls back and licks my lips.
I pull away and ask, “Need help with anything?”
“Nope. Just have a seat.” A small smile spreads across his face, and he nods toward the quaint kitchen table.
“So, this is your mama’s recipe? She taught you how to make it?”
No man has ever cooked a meal for me, and definitely not a family recipe. It feels like this might mean something, but I can’t get ahead of myself. He’s been a jerk for too long.
“Yeah, she taught me to make the basics because she didn’t want me to be a useless husband later in life, but then she taught me this to keep me off the streets. It broke her heart that it didn’t.”
Guilt is written all over his face, and I place a hand on top of his.
“She would be happy to know you still remember the recipe.”
His mouth twists into a lopsided smile. “Maybe.”
More silence settles between us as we eat the delicious stuffed chili pepper. “She would definitely be proud,” I say and pat my belly. “I plan to have more. Later.” It’s time to clear the air and enjoy what’s likely to be our last fuck, so I fold my arms and wait him out.
Eventually, Joaquin speaks. “I’m not mad at you, Willow, and I’m sorry if that’s how it seems. Sometimes I’m not sure how to handle shit that comes up.”
I nod and wait for more, but several minutes pass in silence, and I think that’s all he’s going to say. I’m not sure how I feel about that. He’s not mad at me, but something had angered him. I want—no, need—to know what it was. “You were mad, though.”
He nods and takes a long pull from his beer. “Hell, yeah, I was mad. At myself. If not for me, you wouldn’t have been shot, Willow. I’m so fucking sorry about that. Knowing that asshole was so close to you because of me, it pissed me off.”
“I get that, but I already told you that I don’t blame you.” I pause to see if I’m getting to him. He looks down at his plate, and I can’t tell, so I just continue. “And if I don’t blame you, how can you blame yourself?”
Nothing. So, I sigh because I can see where this is going. “I don’t want you to keep me close because you feel guilty. I’m not into being a charity fuck.”
Especially from a man I want to love me.
Finally, he looks up, at some point over my head. “I should have protected you, Willow. You’re my ol’ lady, and I wasn’t able to keep you safe from those fuckers. That feels shitty.”
“Your ol’ lady?” My heart thumps like crazy against my chest, and I hold my breath waiting for what he might say next.
Joaquin nods. “Damn right, you’re mine, and from here on out, I’m going to protect you. No matter what. I just, fuck, I don’t know…I need you to know that I can protect you, Willow.”
I blink, and my brows furrow to match the confusion I feel in my heart. I thought he didn’t give a damn about me beyond my skills in the bedroom. I told myself it was too much to hope for that he might return my feelings.
“I know you can,” I tell him honestly. “But, you want me to be yours. That’s what I’m hearing?”
He smiles and nods. “You need me to spell it out for you?”
“That would be nice,” I tell him with a smile.
He rises from the table, walks to the cabinet over the stove and reaches for a bottle of tequila. Back at the table, he sits and pours two shots, sliding one in my direction.
“I care about you, Willow. I had no plans to care about you or anyone else, for that matter. Yet, here I am. Caring more than I ever have in my life. So…do you even want to be my ol’ lady?”
I smile and take the shot glass from him. “Yes, Joaquin. I want to be your ol’ lady," I say, feeling my heart swell in my chest with emotion. He nods, a slight grin on his face as he taps his glass against mine. We both toss back the shots, our eyes locked on each other.
“To us," he says, his voice now more serious than before but still gentle and affectionate. I smile wider and nod in agreement, raising my glass a final time to seal our fate as an official couple.
