I smile at his boyish question. “Uh, I mean, yeah…I guess.”
He pushes my hair back from my face and softly assures me, “This is my house. My safe space. The only people who ever get to come here are people who mean something to me.”
I don’t have a quick retort or defensive comeback. Instead, I just stare at him, trying to process that this man—this unfairly gorgeous, successful, kind man—is telling me I mean something to him. More so than any past woman he’s ever been with.
“You can’t just say things like that,” I whisper.
“Why not?” His fingers brush my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s the truth.”
I close my eyes, leaning into his touch despite myself. “Because I don’t know how to handle it. Any of it.”
“You don’t have to handle anything,” he says, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “I just like that you’re here with me. And if you like being here, I hope you’ll stay. I’d really like you to be my girl. My partner. My girlfriend. Whatever you want to call it.”
“Your lover?”
He smiles. “That too, yeah.” He threads his hand throughmy hair and kisses my forehead. “There’s nothing I don’t like about you, Sutton. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m falling for you. Pretty damn hard if I’m being honest. But if you need your space and want to be alone…” He steps back, his smile faltering slightly. “Then I respect that. Whatever happens between you and me is completely on your terms.”
“You really want me to be your girlfriend? Like for real?”
Why does everything about that make me want to both vomit and smile?
“I really do,” he answers sincerely. “I want you to come watch my games and cheer me on. I want to know I can come home to you, win or lose, and get lost in the night right alongside you. I want to laugh with you and cook meals with you and go thrifting with you and sit at the bar and watch you work even though you never have to work another day in your life if you don’t want to.”
I cock my head. “Shepherd. Get real.”
He laughs. “I know, I know. You’re Miss Independent.” I raise my hands in defense. “Totally get it and respect your desire to be everything you want to be. And honestly, I love that you don’t see me as a dollar sign. You’ve never asked me for a damn thing even though I would happily give you everything.”
“I don’t need everything,” I say softly. “I just need?—”
I stop myself, the word hovering dangerously on the tip of my tongue.
You.
I just need you.
But I can’t say it out loud. Not yet. It’s too much. Too real.
Shepherd watches me patiently, waiting for me to finish my thought, and when I don’t, he simply nods like he understands anyway.
“How about we start with breakfast?”
23
SHEPHERD
Me
You busy Sunday?
Sutton
Suspicious opening. Try again.
Me
Do you have plans Sunday?
Sutton
