“What does that?—”
Anker slams his fist into Garrett’s stomach. With a groan, Garrett lurches over.
“Figured breakfast both celebrates your coupling and makes amends for that.” Anker shrugs.
“Anker! What the actual fuck!” Placing my cup on the coffee table, I rush to Garrett.
Garrett holds up his hand. “It’s all good. I expected it.”
“Sorry, man, but I want to be crystal clear that while I am very much okay with this, if you hurt her, I have no problem making my displeasure known.” He slaps Garrett’s back.
“Maybe just use your words next time,” I hiss.
“I blame our Viking heritage,” he quips. “We cool, man?”
“We’re cool,” Garrett groans and straightens.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I place my hands on Garrett’s cheeks.
“Baby? Aw, you two are adorable,” Anker coos, walking to the counter. “Who wants bagels? Garrett, I got your favorite.Sorry, Jensen, they didn’t have blueberry, so I got your second favorite.”
“I think he’s taking this well.” I grin.
“Yeah…so well.” Garrett coughs.
21
MILE TWENTY-ONE
DATE NIGHT
Alarge grin kicks across my face as I run my hands down my dress. The velvet-soft fabric molds over my curves and falls above my knees. Thanks to all the running, I rather enjoy showing off my toned legs via a shorter hem line. For the first time ever, I feel sexy. It’s not about my toned legs, but the confidence that pulses within me.
Tonight is happening because I asked for what I wanted and stood my ground. I was willing to say goodbye, rather than continue to settle for scraps or what ifs.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Garrett says, greeting me at my door, a grin audible in his voice. “You’re stunning.” He leans in and presses a peck to my cheek.
“Are you wearing a suit?” I reach out and run my fingers along the soft fabric. “And a tie?”
“It’s a black suit with a red tie.”
“A red tie… Like my shoes?” Lips puckered, I tug at his tie.
“Yes.” His tone is playful.
My belly swoops. “Look at you, Mr. Fancy Pants.”
“Well”—he leans close, his rich masculine scent filling my nostrils—“I had to make sure I was new red heels-worthy.”
Encircling his neck, I tip my head up. “You’re always red heels-worthy.”
“I’d like to keep it that way.” Banding his arms around my back, he tucks me against him.
“It’s good to have goals.”
He brushes his lips along my jawline, causing heat to tiptoe up my spine. “Oh, I have lots of goals when it comes to you, pretty girl.”
“Yeah?” I coo with a bat of my lashes. “Care to share some of these goals?”
