AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Aw.” I leaned into him. “You going to defend my honor?”
He threw his head back, letting out one sarcastic chuckle. “No.” He met my gaze and smacked the side of my ass. “But I would hold his arms while you kicked the shit out of him.”
“That,” I said, pulling him down the hall with a smile, “is even better.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Dean
Taylor and I spent the next week splitting time between her apartment and my house. It was shockingly easy to fall into this new life with her. Work was going great. The Mackenzie suit was coming to an end with mediation next week, which would be a major win for me, but also Novak & Novak at large, as long as I could get the settlement I’d promised Raber. Ever since Taylor and I had gotten together, it was as if everything else had become easier. Almost like finding that one piece of the puzzle made the rest of it all fit together.
“Do you want a glass of wine?” Taylor called from my kitchen.
“No, but could you grab me a beer?”
It was the first sunny and warm Saturday in all of March, and we’d spent the morning running. Or, rather, Taylor ran, while I limped along. She’d promised I’d be able to keep up with her soon. Though I doubted it. I had yet to experience the supposed endorphin high she did, and while I loved to watch her run in her skimpy tops and spandex, I knew I’d most likely have to find some other form of exercise to stay fit. Something she couldn’t beat me in.
She sidled up next to me on the couch, handing me the beer bottle, and when she set two coasters down on the table, I nodded my appreciation. “Old dogs can learn new tricks.”
“Asshole,” she muttered, kicking her heel into my knee.
I grabbed hold of her ankle and lifted her foot to kiss the bottom of it. “For the next trick, I’ll teach you to be nice to me.”
“You don’t want me to be nice.”
I pinched her big toe with bright-red nail polish on it. “You’re right. I want you to be exactly as you are.” Then I set her feet next to me on the couch and readjusted my guitar. “Any requests?”
She shook her head, and I let my gaze rove over her.
We had spent the afternoon lazing around. She’d gotten her period, so we’d watched a double feature ofThe Parent Trap—again—and my favorite movie,The Wedding Singer, which was the far superior choice. And then she had asked me to play the guitar for her.
So here we were, me unable to take my eyes off her as she snuggled back against a pillow in a long-sleeved T-shirt and baggy pants. Her face clear of makeup, a bit of hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail on the top of her head with a thick scrunchie, a tiny, contented smile on her face. Like there was no other place she’d rather be.
My chest burned, and I gulped down a few swigs of my beer, hoping it would quell the emotion trying to claw its way out of my throat. And there was only one song cycling around in my head to play for her. The one I had played from the cell phone the first night we’d put our weapons down. Even though it was written about moving on from a broken relationship, it spoke to me in a slightly different way. Taylor and I, we came from a broken place. But now, not even wild horses could drag me away.
I set down my beer and strummed a few chords to warm up. I didn’t know a lot of songs by heart, but I had a pretty good number of classics memorized. Then with a glance Taylor’s way, I closed my eyes and started to sing. It felt far too intimate to hold her gaze. Normally, I played in front of a crowd, and I wasn’t used to being so close to someone while I basically serenaded them. While I poured my heart out to her.
It might have been Mick and Keith’s song, but the significance, in this moment, was for us. My skin pricked at the back of my neck as I sang the chorus, and I forced myself to look at the woman who held my heart, challenged my soul. And if I wasn’t mistaken, the tip of her nose was red, her eyes were misty.
I strummed on, and now that I’d dared to meet her dark stare, I couldn’t turn away. Then again, that was the reason why I’d chosen this song. No matter what I did, no matter what she said, there would be nothing that could stop me from loving her.
My blood rushed through my veins at the revelation, and my palms went clammy. My grip on the pick was suddenly tremulous, and I focused on the strings to finish the song even as I trembled.
I avoided her warm gaze and leaned my guitar against the couch to rub my palms along my sweats.
“That was…” She sat up, placing her wine down on the table. “That was really beautiful.”
“It was all right.”
She curled her hand around my neck, urging me to face her, and when I did, my breath caught in my throat. It was overwhelming, the way I could see my entire future in her eyes. She lifted up onto her knees and settled herself on my lap, her hands on my shoulders, her face close to mine.
“Thank you for playing for me. For giving me some of Patrick’s whisky. For letting me in.”
I rounded my hands along her hips and ass, up to her back and down again. I was still shaking, and she pressed her forehead to mine.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. I… It feels like…a lot.”
