He chuckled. “You bought me cufflinks…shaped like cats. You shouldn’t have.”
She punched his shoulder. “They’re sentimental.”
“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Okay, clearly you don’t get it,” she said, deflated.
Nope. He was pretty certain he didn’t. He shook his head.
“That night, when we found Mitzy? I thought these would remind you of me.”
He stared at her, his beautiful Lucy. A woman who bought him cat cufflinks for his birthday because they were sentimental. His heart thudded against his chest. A whole lot of feelings were floating around inside him. Things he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“Forget it. I thought they were fun. I’ll get you something else.” She reached for the box, but he grabbed her hand, tangling his fingers with hers.
“They’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.” He kissed each fingertip on her hand, loving how her mouth fell open and her breath hitched.
“You don’t have to wear them. They’re silly. I just tho—”
He held a thumb to her lips. “They’re you. Totally you, Princess. I love them.”
“We should get ready to go,” she finally said, breaking whatever spell he’d been under. “Reservations and all that.”
“After I get dressed and put on my brand new cat-inspired cufflinks. Then we can go.” He winked at her. “Do they light up or anything? Because if they did, that would be amazing.”
“I’m never buying you anything again.” She sat up in a huff, grabbing the top sheet to her breasts, but he snagged her around her waist and pulled her back to him. She fell against him with a smalloof.
“Every year for my birthday, I’m expecting something as perfect as these. Cat cufflinks are going to be hard to beat, though.”
Her expression went distant. Shut down.
Shit. No talk of the future. He knew better. Understood she wasn’t ready.
Instead of saying anything else, he kissed her intently. The best birthday present he’d ever received. He rose and yanked on a pair of boxers. If he didn’t get out of the bed now, they’d never make it out the front door.
The air conditioner unit attached to the window sputtered to a stop. He glared at it. Lucy deserved better than an apartment seemingly held together by masking tape. He walked to the air conditioner and gave the top a good smack. The unit coughed to life again.
“I’m talking to Dixie and Jeff about your apartment. The dial on your stove is loose and the locks on the door wouldn’t keep out a chipmunk.”
Lucy hadn’t budged from her spot in the middle of the mattress. “Now you’re Mr. Fix-It? While you’re at it, can you ask them to fix the boinger thingy on the bathroom door. It’s not boinging quite like it should. Don’t you think?” She quirked her head to the side.
“Boinger thingy. I’ll add that to my list.”
“And the towel rod falls down in the bathroom. Total safety hazard.” She hopped from the bed, holding the sheet in front of herself and hurried to the living room. “Oh my gosh, we almost missed it. I have another present for you. Wait until you see the story I did for your station, birthday boy. Super objective and, if I do say so myself, exceptionally well done.”
She waggled her eyebrows dramatically.
He chuckled. “Goof. What story did you end up going with?”
He followed her to the living room. She hadn’t said a word about her story since he’d told her to give the other one to Anderson.
She pulled the knob on the old tube television and plopped down on the couch.
“I did the bullying story, like I planned.” The evening news promo began to play, the graphics announcing the evening news team. “You wouldn’t believe what I found out. The task force assigned last year only met once. Once. Can you even believe that?”
He stilled. She’d totally disregarded his direction. And by doing so threatened the integrity of his station. By extension, his integrity.
“Luce, you said you’d give that story to Anderson.” The blood in his head thrummed a rhythmic beat.
