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"Meow."
"Schrödinger, dude," Gray mutters with a grumble. "You're ruining the moment."
I pull back to see a black and white cat sitting in the floor at our feet, staring up at us like he's expecting an introduction. I'm not sure if all cats are supposed to be the same size, but this one looks like he might have eaten another cat or two. He's a chonk. He's adorable though.
"You have a cat?"
"Yes, Schrödinger."
"Your cat is named Schrödinger?" I ask, laughing quietly. Somehow, I'm not surprised.
"Are you judging me?" Gray cocks a brow at me, those gray eyes all wicked-hot behind his glasses.
"Nope," I say, biting my lip to hide a smile. Honestly, I love the way he is, quirks and all. He says whatever he thinks and never apologizes for who he is. Being around him is a nice change. Usually, my clients are hyperfocused on projecting a specific image to the world. But if his image didn't impact his ability to play his sport, I don't think he'd give a single crap what anyone thought about him. "You really are a nerd, aren't you?"
"I warned you," he says with a shrug. "No one ever believes me."
"Uh, have you looked in the mirror lately?" I ask, staring at him like he's crazy. "You're crazy hot and you play hockey. Of course no one believes you're a nerd."
"Then you're going to be sorely disappointed when you see the rest of my house," he says, his voice grave even though humor glints in his eyes. "Because I never outgrew comic books and action figures."
"Really?" I glance around, trying to envision the place decorated in memorabilia, but can't quite see it. His house is honestly pretty impressive. It's not as big as some of the homes in Nashville, but it's certainly up there. He lives so far off the road, he's basically in the woods, which is ironic considering how much he hates camping. The house itself is a picturesque rock-fronted Tudor Revival with a steep, pitched roof, giant rock columns on the porch, and prominent chimneys that jut into the air like parapets.
The foyer and living room are normal enough. The floors are glossy hardwood. The living room is covered with thick rugs and plush furniture that looks both expensive and cozy at the same time. The focal piece in the room is the massive fireplace. Bold artwork hangs on the walls, giving the room color. It's elegant without being overwhelming.
Schrödinger wraps himself around my ankles, purring.
"Really," Gray says, setting the bag of medicine I brought him down on the credenza table and then leaning down to scoop up the cat. He holds him like a baby in the crook of his arm, making me smile. Once Schrödinger is settled, his tail curled around Gray's arm, Gray holds his free hand out to me. "Come on and we'll give you the tour."
I take his hand, letting him lead me through the house. I fall in love with his kitchen as soon as I step foot inside. It'sfreaking massive, with so much counter space. Pots and pans hang on hooks over the massive island. Big windows overlook the grounds and skylights flood the room with natural light.
"I can never bring my mama here," I say, running my free hand along the slate gray countertop.
"What? Why the fuck not?" he asks…growls, really.
"She'll never leave," I say, laughing. "She loves to cook but her kitchen is tiny. Getting her out of here would take a miracle."
"Are you and your mom close?"
"Yeah," I say, smiling. "She's amazing. She always cooked enough to feed an army. It came in handy after Adrian's mama died. My mom took him in and raised him with me and Ana. He could always eat more than a freaking horse."
"She can cook in our kitchen whenever she wants."
"Our kitchen?" My brows fly upward. I expect him to backtrack, but he doesn't.
He hits me with a look hot enough to set my panties on fire. "Yeah, ours," he growls. "One day soon, you're going to move in here with me,querida. It's going to happen."
"Gray," I whisper, swallowing hard. I think my heart is lodged in my throat. Or maybe that's my stomach. I'm not sure, but I feel dizzy and overheated, and more than a little bit turned on too.
"Just thought you should know," he says with a shrug.
"Know what? That you're a crazy person?"
He sets Schrödinger on a barstool and then reels me in toward him. He doesn't stop until we're breathing the same sliver of air. "I thought you should know that you're mine, Camila. But I saw the way you looked at me when I called the kitchen ours. You already know you're mine, don't you, angel?"
"I…" I lick my lips, but not even that works any moisture back into my mouth. He sapped it all out when he sent me spinninginto orbit. And for some reason, it's not nearly as terrifying as I thought it would be.
"I got time," he says, brushing wayward strands of hair away from my face. "I'll prove whatever you need me to prove, however you need me to prove it. But just know that when you're as certain of me as I am of you, I'm putting my ring on your finger and my kid in your belly."
