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Her eyes narrowed. “I thought the locksmith fixed it.”
“He did, but at the risk of sounding like the bossy bastard I am, you really, really need to remember to use the lock. Especially when you’re here by yourself.”
She sighed, relieved that the door was fixed but annoyed at herself for being a careless idiot.
“I thought I did,” she said, snuggling into him. “I know it’s not a good excuse, but it was busy. Nina and the catering staff we use were in and out all evening.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and she smiled. She could sit like this forever. With him.
“So, baby,” he murmured against her ear.
Electricity zipped down her spine and settled low in her belly.
“You got any food around here? I’m starving.”
She reared back and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Buchanan? You’re going to bust out the seductive, sexy voice for some food?”
He grinned. “Is it working?”
Laughing, she smacked a loud kiss on his forehead and stood. “Check the walk-in. The shelf on the left is fair game. Get something for both of us.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wide smile.
“Oh, and get the box with blue polka dots when you’re in there.”
As he foraged for their dinner, Roxie headed to her desk to pack up. She grabbed her wallet and phone and tossed them into her tote bag. Then, rummaging through the mail to find a catalog she’d thrown aside earlier, her hand paused over a plain white envelope with her name on it. The edges of her vision grew fuzzy with adrenaline. She didn’t want to touch it.
“I’ve got the polka dot box, a lasagna, and a ham casserole,” Joe said from outside her door. “Want anything else?”
Her head shot up, and she sighed in relief when she saw he was looking at the containers of food in his hands.
“No, that sounds good,” she said, shoving the envelope into her tote.
She hoped he hadn’t noticed the quiver in her voice.
* * *
Less than fifteen minutes later, Joe opened their front door. With his arms full, he gestured for her to go in first.
She murmured her thanks as she walked past him. Always the gentleman.
Setting her tote bag down with a thud, she began the winter unwrapping—gloves, scarf, jacket.
Joe kicked off his shoes and headed toward the kitchen. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or are you going to make me guess?”
She stilled. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Really?I’m fine?God, if he hadn’t known there was a problem before, he certainly did now.
Taking a deep breath, she hung her jacket on the coat rack and switched from work clogs to fuzzy slippers. Only once her clogs were lined up on the shoe rack did she follow him into the kitchen. If it took her a bit longer to do those menial tasks, it was merely a coincidence. Yeah, that was it.
She bit back a groan. Yup, she still sucked at lying. Even to herself.
Joe turned from the oven as she entered the kitchen. “Don’t pretend everything’s okay, Rox. You barely said a word on the way home, and I’m not quite sure you heard a thing I said.”
“That’s not true.” She was restless, fidgety, so she focused her attention—and hands—on opening a bottle of wine. “I heard everything you said.” After removing the cork, she ticked each item off on her fingers. “First, I think the job at Cade’s is a great opportunity for you, and for that amount of money—to do something you already love doing—why not, right? It’s a no-brainer, really. Second, Nina told me about the self-defense class. Alex is going. Sheila’s in as well. Apparently, June, that crazy lady, already takes the cardio kickboxing thing and is looking forward to your class. So, Mr. Buchanan, the Comfort Food staff is all in.”
“Okay, I stand corrected. You were listening.” He leaned against the island next to her. “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or what?”
