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“Thanks, man.”
“No. Wait. Dale, that’s not necessary,” Fox argued at Dale’s retreating back. “He’s going to work.” Fox tried to move out of Bull’s hold. “Hey. You go and do your job. I’m used to this. I’ll be fine aft—”
“I am doing my job,” Bull whispered, “and you don’t have to go through this alone anymore.” Bull kissed him deep and passionately, shutting off any further protest.
“Mmm, damn,” Fox breathed. “I want you to hold that thought until after I’ve had at least five hours of sleep.”
“Okay.” Bull kept one hand on his lower back as he slowly made his way up the porch and into the house.
“Hey, sweetie.” Amelia kissed his cheek. “I’m so happy you’re home. Breakfast is still hot.”
The sweet motherly tone in her voice, her welcoming kisses, and the thoughtfulness of her gestures filled a void that’d been inside him for almost thirty years, ever since his mother decided when he was ten that he didn’t need a caring female in his life, only the stern hand of his father.
“Amelia, he’ll be down for lunch, okay? Right now, he just wants to sleep,” Bull answered for him.
“But he loves my grits.”
Fox paused where they were halfway up the stairs, his stomach starting to rumble at the mention of food and the smell of coffee. “The ones with the gravy and the little chunks of ham?”
Walker chuckled from where he sat, fondly watching them at the breakfast bar.
“Yes.” She flashed a megawatt smile. “You go on up. I’ll make you a plate and bring it to you.”
“You’ve made her day, you know that?” Bull helped Fox onto the bed, then knelt at his feet. His gaze slowly roamed up his body until their eyes met. Bull’s voice was raw when he added, “And mine too.”
Fox’s mind was at ease—comforted—that everything had worked out. Somehow, he still had his badge, and he had Bull too. As long as he was willing to go with the plan and accept Fox’s new position as SWAT operations senior intelligence officer.
Bull unlaced Fox’s boots and removed them from his feet. Before he could reach for the button on his jeans, Fox removed his 9mm and badge clipped to his waist and placed them on top of the nightstand. The mirth fled from Bull’s eyes, but he hurried to school his expression and reversed his frown into an uneasy smile.
“It’s not what you think.” Fox stopped Bull’s hand from continuing his job. “We need to talk.”
“Okay,” Bull muttered, rising to his feet.
Fuck, he looked good in those faded jeans and the black-and-gray, tattered long john shirt clinging to his muscles. His dusty black boots clacked across the hard floor as he went and stood in front of the window with his arm propped on top of the sill.
“I’m still a SWAT officer, but I work in the intelligence department now. Basically, Free is my boss. He’s the director of IT and intelligence for both departments.”
Bull whipped his head around, his smile slowly reforming. “So, you’ll go to work in the office.”
Fox shook his head. The more minutes that passed, the fuzzier his brain got. “No, only maybe once or twice a week for team exercises. But I’ll work from here most of the time. Just like Free can work from anywhere in the world.” Fox leaned back against the padded headboard. “I just need some office space. Well, a significant amount of office space.”
“I think that can be arranged. My office downstairs is huge. It’s supposed to be the den, but we only use the main family room. You can set it up however you want.”
“You don’t have to give up your office. I can arrange something in the loft, or—”
Bull shook his head. “I never use that space. The women up front in the business office handle everything. I go up there and sign off on what they want, but they usually come out and find me. It gets them some fresh air. That’s been working for all of us.”
“You sure?” Fox asked.
“I’m sure that it’s a good space that should be put to good use. There’s probably an inch of dust on that 1990 desktop in there. You can gut it and do whatever you need, baby.” Bull came to him, his demeanor shifting almost instantly. “Just stay with me.”
Fox unbuckled his belt, then undid the button on his pants, never breaking their eye contact. Bull helped him the rest of the way out of his jeans, smoothing his hands over his thighs as he slipped them down his legs.
“I’ll show you the space later, after you sleep.”
Fox wouldn’t argue that.
Bull cursed when he removed Fox’s T-shirt and got a look at the angry bruises covering his right side. “Goddamnit.”
Fox knew they were hideous. He’d seen them in the mirror this morning after he’d showered at his condo for the last time. “You should see the bench,” he smirked.
