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“Everything here is bright, just like in every other hot place in the world.”
“And some not-so-hot ones. If it’s the colors you like, I can suggest a few great countries to visit and maybe take up temporary residence in.”
I plant my hands on my hips. “What are you doing here? Is…is something wrong? Did someone find—”
“No, nothing like that.”
Alden’s eyes are a furious mix of dark, banked emotion, and just seeing them, seeing him attached to them and seeing his thick wavy hair, hard face, and massive body in person again does things to me that I didn’t think would happen because I’d convinced myself that I was hardened against having them happen.
“Well, if you want to talk about something else, then we have a small shed in the back. Right now, it has nothing in it. We could talk in there.”
“In the shed.”
“Yes, the shed.”
“Alright. I’m good with that.”
I want to ask him—as he follows me around the condo and into the backyard—if he’s had a long trip. A long flight. Or if he’s tired, hungry, or thirsty. I want to be kind and courteous. Oh, fuck that. I want to ask him if he’s here for me in the way that means he’s here to claim me, but also not really claim because he doesn’t operate like that. It would be more in the way of him talking it out with me until we come to an agreement, giving me all the facts, and letting me decide because he values my opinion, my feelings, and my happiness.
Alden isn’t the classic storybook guy from all those smut romances I used to guiltily indulge in. He’s so, so much better because he’s so genuine. He’s tough in his own way, and his kindness makes him sexy. His sexy makes him sexy too, but right now, I’m trying really hard to focus on areas that aren’t his bodily areas.
It makes it pretty dang hard not to focus on his size and the delicious citrus and woodsy scent of him when we’re jammed up in a tiny garden shed. I cross my arms, trying to ward him off. I also leave the door open, so we have some light and don’t suffocate. As it is, sweat starts rolling off my forehead immediately. It’s more than just hot. It’s humid like a mother in here.
“I…how are you?” he asks, never taking his deep brown eyes away from my face. It’s crazy how in the dark shadows of the shed, they look more alive than ever. I can see those amber flecks quite clearly from over here—over here being at least four feet away and bent slightly in the neck because of the angled roofline of the shed.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper-scream. I mean plead. No, I mean say. “Don’t small talk me. If you’re here, it’s either because something needs to be said that couldn’t be trusted to the mail or the phone or the computer or because you want to be here. Because you came back for me.”
He chuckles. “Always reading my mind. Alright, it’s the latter.”
My arms tighten fractionally around myself. I expected there to be a great big lead-up to that admission, but it’s here already. It doesn’t feel flat. Instead, it feels…I feel elated. Elated like a mother. Like a mother is my new favorite saying, much to my own mother’s chagrin. “And if I don’t want to go? You’ll kidnap me again?”
Alden’s grin is instant and totally full of humor. “It was suggested that I resort to any means necessary to get you to hear me out, but I promised myself a long time ago that mistakes and social faux pas were made to learn from. I don’t want to be labeled a hashtag imbecile, whatever that means. Can you tell I abhor social media?”
I struggle with my own need to smile like a hashtag imbecile. “I think I just started to like you a little bit more.”
“I hope it’s a continuation of the start from before.”
“I guess that’s right. Not started, but whatever it is after starting.”
“I’m not sure, but I hear that the sky’s the limit, as the clichéd fools like to say.”
“Everyone knows the sky isn’t the limit. How many years have people been going into space?”
“Exactly.”
“Props to you.”
“Anyway, no kidnapping. I was seriously hoping not to get kicked in the junk again.”
“What about the future? What about role-playing? The kidnapping, not the junk kicking. We could re-enact how we met, except do it without clothes on.”
“Gah! What?”
I laugh, feeling as awkward as that statement was. “Bad sexual jokes? Breaking the tension? Putting you at ease? But I’m all for role-playing if you want to.”
“I…I didn’t expect this.”
“I didn’t expect to like you as much as I do, either. I thought you’d be more of the bacon streak variety, and no one likes those.”
