As he hoped, she laughed. It was weak and short, but it was still a laugh.
"I'll see in you twenty minutes, tops."
"It takes at least that long to get here from your place," she said. "Don't drive like a maniac to get over here and have an accident."
"I won't," he promised. "I'm an excellent driver."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Call me if you need anything else," he said.
"I will."
He hung up and gathered the things he would need, including a partial sheet of plywood. He had it on hand for some projects he had planned around the house, but he could always replace it later. He didn't want to take the time to go to a home improvement store or lumberyard to buy more.
Within ten minutes, he was in his truck, letting his phone tell him where to go. The app said it would take twenty minutes to arrive, but he fully intended to make it in fifteen.
Unfortunately, he didn't quite make it in that timeframe. It was actually seventeen minutes. Still, it was better than he expected.
As soon as he climbed out of his truck, the door on the left side of the duplex flew open and a tall woman came out with a baseball bat resting on her shoulder. She was built much like the women in his family—broad in the shoulders, narrow in the waist, and sleek with lean muscles. He definitely wouldn't want her swinging that bat at his head because she looked strong enough to make it hurt like hell.
"Who are you?" she asked, gripping the bat tighter.
Hoping that this was Dylan's neighbor, he said, "I'm Clay, Dylan's, uh," Shit. He had no idea what to call himself. Finally, he settled on, "Boyfriend."
Before the other woman could answer, a small missile with black hair zoomed out of the door and around the woman, heading straight for him. Clay dropped the bag that held his tools on the ground next to his feet and caught her on the fly.
"You're here," she whispered, tucking her face into his neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms snaked around his neck.
Dylan held him tightly, clinging to him like a lifeline.
"Of course I'm here," he said, taking her weight.
"I'm glad. I didn't realize how much I needed you until I saw you."
Just like that, he wasn't falling in love with her any longer. Hewasin love with her. There was no escaping the knowledge.
Clay held her until she lifted her face from his neck. When he saw the tears in her eyes, it hurt.
"Please don't cry. I don't know what to do with crying women," he all but begged.
She sniffed. "Your mom and sister never cry?"
"They do, but usually they're hitting me with something when they do. Or they're throwing things."
Dylan gave a watery laugh. "Well, I guess I could ask Sylvie if she'll lend me Lucille if it makes you more comfortable."
"Uh, no thanks."
This time, when she laughed, the tears in her eyes were drying up.
He knew it was time to release her when her legs released his hips and she levered away from his body. Clay wanted to hold on to her for a few more moments. Just like she said, he hadn't realized how badly he needed to see her after that frantic phone call until she was in his arms.
It occurred to him on the drive over that he could have lost her just after he found her and the thought shook him to his core.
He'd looked for the right woman for over a decade. As of a few moments ago, he'd realized that Dylan was the right woman. The one he'd been waiting for.
He couldn't lose her.
