“If you say so.”
“I always have before.”
Cade’s breath catches, his fingers stilling. “Well, now you don’t have to.”
I want to argue, to point out how ridiculous he’s being, but a yawn stops me.
“And there’s the issue of the danger you’re in,” Cade continues. “You’re going to tell me exactly who was threatening you and why.”
I cup his face drowsily, relishing the way his stubble abrades my palms. “I’m not asking you to clean up my mess.”
“I know. But I’m going to do it anyway. Taking out the bad guys is what I do best.”
My thumb strokes his dimple. “You’re forgetting that, in this situation, I’m the bad guy.”
He twists to kiss my thumb. “No, not a chance. You’re my purpose. The sooner you wrap your head around that, the better.”
“You can’t be serious.”
His big hand wraps around the nape of my neck. “Rest now. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
He can’t promise that, not when I have a concussion courtesy of one of his brothers. Given the stares from the rest of them, I’m willing to bet a large sum of money that they’d do the same if given the chance.
Despite this, my body relaxes. It’s impossible not to when Cade wraps me in his arms and tugs me onto his chest.
I breathe him in. I shouldn’t sleep now. It’s too dangerous. Who knows what his brothers might do to me? Maybe this is all a trick. Maybe this is how it all ends.
But I can’t help it. I fall asleep. Because right now, it doesn’t matter what my mind is telling me, my soul feels safe with Cade. Maybe it’s just for the moment, but still, I’m safe. I know it, and I’m starting to think it’s not my body or soul I need to worry about.
It’s my heart.
12
CADE
When Ansel wakes up the next morning, I run us a bath and instruct Dalton to serve us food while we steep in it. I request a nice charcuterie with the finest wine. One from Wylder’s cellar.
Ansel protests that it’s too much, but I ignore him. I won’t have our first date outside of the cabin be anything less than perfect.
And honestly, who doesn’t love a bottle of wine in the morning?
Dalton doesn’t question my request, just does it without complaint. He knows he was wrong to lay his hands on my fragile butterfly, injuring his wings. Ansel has a concussion because of him, and hewillpay for it.
The punch will come later when I have a moment of time to land it. Until then, Dalton can grovel a bit. Serves him right.
Once Dr. Ramsey has checked Ansel over and given his approval of his progress, we slide into the warm bath.
Now, my legs are wrapped around Ansel’s, his chin almost entirely under the bubbly water. Both of us are sleepy—Ansel thanks to his concussion, and me because I had to wake him during the night to check on him. To be honest, I don’t think I would’ve slept even if the doctor hadn’t insisted on it. I was so worried about him that sleep was the last thing on my mind.
It’s a good thing that there’s nothing on the agenda today except relaxing. That, and hopefully getting Ansel to open up about who exactly he’s gotten himself into trouble with.
So they can get into trouble with me instead. I’ll be far more fun to play with.
Well, it’ll be fun for me, at least.
I’m sure he has questions for me, too. About The Firm, and what being a part of it involves. But, like me, he seems content to wait until later.
We’re just living in a bubble bath, pretending the outside world doesn’t exist.
