Jude
As soon as you can get here.
Gemma
Be there at 5:45.
Lucky her. Usually he worked late.
During the rest of the workday at her shop, she checked the time every thirty seconds. Gemma hadn't been this eager when she'd been twelve and counting the days until her family's trip to Disney World.
At last, closing time arrived.
Stopping at the grocery store, she picked up French bread and a pre-made green salad and—on a wave of inspiration—a bar of good-quality chocolate.
As soon as she reached his cabin, she detected the smell of barbecue smoke. Following her nose, she rounded the side of his house, carrying her grocery sack.
He must’ve heard her because when he came into view, he was already facing in her direction with hopeful expectation. He had the grill open and a pair of tongs in his hand. A wide grin spread across his face, making him so breathtaking that she almost couldn’t bear it.
It was chilly and blustery out today. He wasn't wearing a hat or gloves with his casual clothes and green pull-over fleece, so his fingers and cheeks were red.
“You’re finally here,” he said.
“Finally? I said I’d be here at 5:45 and it's 5:41.”
He set down the tongs and moved toward her. “The hours between 2:00 a.m. last night and 5:41 tonight were the longest hours I’ve ever lived.”
She knew exactly what he meant.
His hands came up to support the sides of her face and jaw. “Hello.” His voice was a sexy caress.
She dropped the sack and placed her palms on his chest. “Hello.”
Then he showed her just how much he'd missed her through their kisses. She loved the taste of him, the texture of his cheeks at this hour of the day after he’d shaved this morning. Loved his assurance—
Mabel's barking interrupted them once again.
His forehead rested against hers. “I might need to call a dog trainer.”
“And also check to make sure the sausages aren't burning?”
“The sausages!”
She followed him to the barbecue and sure enough, one side of the sausages was going to be toastier than the other side. “That’s exactly how I like them,” she said truthfully.
“And here I was trying to impress you by cooking the only thing I cook well.”
“I'm already as impressed by you as a person can be.”
He glanced at her. Their eye contact lingered.
“How did it go at work today?” she asked. He'd told her last night that he intended to tell his bosses about them today. She'd tried to convince him not to do so. To wait, at the very least. He'd responded with laid-back ease, defusing any irritation she might have felt over the fact that he wasn't going to take her advice. After all, she'd been in no mood then or now to let anything bother her.
“They put me on administrative leave,” he said as nonchalantly as if he'd just said,These sausages are made of pork.
It took her a few seconds to digest his sentence. When she did, each word landed hard—clanging. “They . . . suspended you because you’re dating me?” She did not sound as calm as he’d sounded.
“Yes. Dixon is going to discuss things with his superiors and then they’ll make a determination.”
