I turned to find Lida behind me, peering into Orla’s room, tongue hanging out.
Knew the feeling. I guided the dog away, pointing at the kitchen.
Lida obeyed me far more readily than my kids ever had.
At the sink, I filled a bowl of water for her and considered the options for feeding her. Orla was a gracious host, but she didn’t keep emergency dog food in her cupboards.
I was pondering what to do about that when Nash joined me in the kitchen. He was still on the phone.
“Of course you have a choice. You know I’m not about ordering you to do shit if I don’t have to. But you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
Nash listened a moment to whoever was speaking, his gaze sliding to me. “No, not tonight. I’ll tell you when I see you.”
The conversation wrapped up and he killed the call.
I leaned against the counter. “Ranger?”
“Yeah.”
“He good with coming south?”
“Not yet.”
“He’s not an easy person to persuade if he’s set on something.”
Nash shrugged and opened the fridge, pulling out a beer. “Who is?”
Me. Cos I’d learned the hard way not to get too set on anything, but Nash didn’t need to know that. Or maybe he already did. At this point, who cared? We were both here in this moment. Both healthy and whole with a beautiful woman asleep in the room next door.
It was a hard-won philosophy, and I grabbed onto it with both hands as Nash popped the cap on his beer and tipped the bottle to his mouth. Watching his throat work as he swallowed reminded me of the rare nights he’d been calm enough to let me slide my dick between his lips. How his eyes had rolled more than mine at the rapture of it. It broke my heart that any part of him believed such a natural shared pleasure could ever feel wrong.
He doesn’t believe that.
No, but someone had wanted him to so fuckin’ much that they’d made him scared of who he was, and that shit... fuckin’ hell. It made me want to bust walls with my bare hands.
The security system beeped that someone was by the front door.
I stepped to the monitor on the kitchen island, already on high alert. But it was Folk with a shopping bag.
“Dog food.” Nash came close enough to loll his head on my shoulder and it was so fuckin’ easy to rub my cheek on his damp hair. “We fed her on the road and gave her a run. Then Folk went out to get some more.”
“Good for the morning then.”
“Yeah, then we need to get the raw shit she’s used to.”
“I can do that if you stay with Orla.”
“Nah. That’s what prospects are for.”
Fair enough. I waited for him to drain his beer, then tugged him into my arms, widening my legs to make room for him. Deep shadows marred his under-eyes, but that might’ve been the light. Or the weight of how much I fuckin’ cared about him.
I kissed him, gently, letting my hands skate over his bare torso.
Letting him return the favour, cos I was shirtless too.
Nash drew back, running his gaze over me. “Is this easier for you now? Letting us see you?”
Yes. No. Yes.
