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Her.
And he loved her.
Her.
As she was.
“It is,” she whispered.
“Andthat,” he murmured, “is why I don’t care that you’re cranky. Because you think sweet potato fries are romantic and love my brownies and can clamp an artery like a fucking champ.”
She giggled. “Yes.”
He lifted a brow. “To the clamping or the proposal?”
“Both.”
His arms banded around her, his laughter in the air, his ring on her finger. This was the now. This was the future.
This was their lives becoming one.
Because he loved her.
And she loved him.
Andhis ability to spring for sweet potato fries atpreciselythe right time.
Lex
Squinting against the blackness, he adjusted the toggle on his goggles.
Adjusted the settings so he could see more clearly.
Could see the woman who’d just gotten up, who would soon descend the stairs from the apartment above her shop and get ready for the day.
She wasn’t the owner of Darlington’s bakery, but she started working at the same early hour.
When the sun wasn’t up.
Hell, it wasn’t yet even peeking over the horizon in the distance.
Pitch black.
But he could see her, could see every inch of her gorgeous body—from that lush ass to those tits that made a man hard to her face, pretty in a delicate way. He couldn’t see the freckles dusting over her nose and cheeks or the bright copper of her hair—his night vision goggles saw in shades of green and black—or blue to orange to red if he switched on thermal imaging.
Tonight, though, he stuck with the classic green as he watched her move through her apartment, catching glimpses of her through the windows as she got dressed and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail and then moved into her kitchen.
Here she switched on the under-cabinet lights, so Lex adjusted too.
Back to normal view, zooming in, focusing on the brand of tea she was drinking today.
Filing it away with the other bits of information he’d learned about Francesca Lyon—Lee-own, not Lie-on—since he’d first picked up her file.
It had joined a plethora of others on the Lyons.
The only difference was that it was thin.
He’d thought it meant that she was better at covering her tracks.
