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They place their bags on the bar, and as soon as I release Spiegel, she demands her share of attention before the formal introductions.
The one who’d been carrying the whiskey finishes scratching Spiegel between the ears, then offers her hand. “I’m Gretchen, and this is Natalie. She also works at Cole Security.”
“So, you both have to put up with Riker. Sorry about that.” Riker had told me a little about them, but usually our conversations shied away from work topics. As I look around for a place for us to sit down, I realize just how much of a mess I’ve made. “Can I offer you a drink?”
They both glance toward the alcohol they just delivered.
“There’s pop in the fridge, or...” I pause, wondering how long I’m going to look and sound like a tourist. With my propensity for getting lost while driving, probably forever. “You all don’t call it pop here, do you?”
“Not usually,” Natalie says with a soft laugh. “I wouldn’t worry about it. My husband is from Cincinnati, and we have people from all over.”
“That's good. Riker managed to take me out of Ohio, but you’ll be prying pop,holler,andcrickout of my cold, dead mouth. I’m sure I’ll still manage to stand out as soon as I find myself going the wrong way up a one-way.” I scratch my temple as Spiegel makes her way around me, sniffing at the gift bags.
“Don’t worry, we thought of you, too.” She pulls a package of Spiegel’s favorite treats from one of the bags. Lord knows all the details Riker has briefed them on.
Riker
I return to my apartment in the early hours on Sunday morning. I hadn’t considered all the pitfalls of having Spiegel in an apartment until I slid the key into the lock. I hold my breath as I turn the key and knob.
The living room glows from the light of the TV and Spiegel jumps up from the floor in front of the couch, drawing my eye to the curvy form wrapped in a blanket.
“Hi, Spiegel.” I give her a scratch between the ears before I lock the doors—making certain she won’t bark as soon as I move.
Once she’s appeased, I creep toward the couch and pull back the blanket slightly. “Libby.”
She stirs and rolls back. After blinking several times, she gives me a sleepy smile.
“What are you doing on the couch?”
“Waiting up for you.” She curls her arms around my neck, and I shudder.
“It’s almost five in the morning and your hands are frigid.”
“It’s the thought that counts.”
I rip the blanket off her and lift her up to carry her into the bedroom. Of course, Spiegel beats us, jumping on the foot of the bed. The sheets are turned down, so I lay her down on the far side of the bed and pull them up over her.
She pulls my face closer, pressing her lips to mine.
It’s real.
After all the dreams of waking up with her in my bed, I can finally enjoy it.
I barely bring myself to break away and shed my clothes before crawling in next to her. I’ve missed the feel of her skin on mine, the fruity scent of her hair, and most of all, the sound of her teasing laugh.
It’s not the same over the phone.
All at once, something Harper said hits me. She’d said I found peace in the chaos. Little did either of us know at the time, Libby is my chaos. Even when I think I know what she’s going to say or do, she dives in the opposite direction.
However, I might be testing that trend already after I get some much needed sleep.
* * *
When I wake up, the other half of the bed is empty, but the faint smell of lavender and citrus lingers from her pillows. I find Libby standing over the counter, dipping bread into a bowl of eggs.
“Hope you like French toast,” she says, offering her cheek when I approach.
“Sounds great.” I wrap my arms around her middle, pressing into her back, and burrowing my face against her neck. “Having second thoughts about the move yet?”
