“Why is that important to you?”
I answered honestly. “Because it’s important to you.”
Apparently, that was the right answer. She linked her fingers with mine and tugged me toward the hallway that led to my bedroom.
“You’re going to break my streak,” she mused, perhaps more to herself than me.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t do relationships, and yet…”
I didn’t need her to finish the sentence. We both knew where this was going. “Let’s just take it one step at a time, huh? We don’t need to define anything.”
“Okay.”
I followed her into my bedroom and finally got what I’d been wishing for.
21
TWENTY-ONE
Waking up with Brody was surreal. He was already up and staring at me when I opened my eyes.
“I didn’t drool, did I?” My hand automatically went toward my mouth, and I rubbed at the corners, self-conscious.
He smirked. “I’m not sure. If you did, it was sexy drool. Don’t worry about that.”
I gave him a dark look. “That is not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.” He burrowed down in the covers and regarded me with serious eyes. “How are you feeling?”
He was vulnerable in this moment. Even if I hadn’t recognized that, I would never have said anything to hurt him. Not purposely. Not again. He was too important to me… and that was a terrifying thought.
“I feel pretty good,” I replied.
“Yeah?”
I smirked at the way he puffed himself out. “Yeah.” I reached over and poked my finger into his cheek. “You’re smiling.”
“Is that surprising to you?”
I shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you ever smiled. Then we met here again, and you seemed hesitant with your smiles. Now,though…” I didn’t say what I was wondering.Is he smiling because of me? Is it just the sex, or is it me too?
He seemed to recognize what I was worried about. “You make me smile.”
I went warm from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “Because I’m funny?”
“Like a clown,” he agreed, lightly tickling my ribcage and making me squirm.
“You did not just call me a clown.”
I gasped, wriggling, but not because I wanted to escape. This moment was too perfect to ruin. I could stay here for the rest of the day and be perfectly content. Well, as long as there was food. What was freaking me out, although I refused to dwell on it, was that part of me believed I could stay here the rest of my life and be happy.
What the hell is going on with me?
“We had the Stephen King conversation last night,” I reminded him sternly. “Clowns are freaky.”
“Ah.” He stopped tickling and eyed me. “Would you be insulted if I said you were funny like one of the women onTheGolden Girls?”
