Wilder: Callie, do you know your house lion is outside chasing the chickens?
Callie: JAXON! You were supposed to be watching him.
Jaxon: I am. He’s doing a great job of catching his dinner.
Jaxon: Anybody up for chicken nuggets?
Callie: Jax. angry face emoji
Jaxon: Fine, I’ll bring him inside.
Me: That cat has you wrapped around his paws,Jaxy.
Jaxon: He’s eating me out of house and home.
Callie: You’re the one who spoils him with new treats all the time.
Me: Have you tattooed his paw print on your ass yet?
Jaxon: No…
Callie: It’s on his chest.
I slidethe dutch oven onto the rack and close the door, setting the timer for forty-five minutes. Leaning back against the counter, my attention automatically moves to the captivating woman on my sofa, knitting another row on her slightly lopsided baby blanket. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head, and she’s wearing another one of my shirts with her legs curled under her. Best view in the goddamn world. If I were some kind of artist—photographer or painter—I’d capture every detail of her just like this.
She hasn’t agreed to move in with me yet, but she’s been spending a lot more time here the last couple of weeks.
“You really don’t have to keep doing this,” Angie says, glancing over her shoulder. “I appreciate the effort, but I don’t want to keep wasting your time. I probably hyped it up so much in my mind that nothing will ever come close.”
I eat up the distance between us in several long strides and stand behind the sofa, massaging her shoulders, digging my thumbs into the muscles in her neck and upper back. “I enjoy it. Makes me feel like I have a purpose. You’re doing all this work carrying the little tater tot. The least I can do is keep you fed and happy. It might never be Denver, but at least I did something worthwhile.”
I’ll find a way to give her Denver.
She closes her eyes and releases a soft moan. “This is a much better use of your time. Little to the left. God. Yessssss,” she whines.
My cock twitches at the sound of her approval.
Fuck. Not now.
I can’t get hard every time she’s around, or we’ll never get past the physical attraction. I need her to see me as more than a way to get off—not that I mind that part. Sex with Angie has always been fucking mind-blowing, but it’s the ordinary moments that I love the most.
“Is this your way of convincing me to move in with you?” she asks.
“Maybe. Is it working?”
“It’s notnotworking.”
Her phone rings. She picks it up from the coffee table, and after a brief conversation, she stands, tucking it into her pocket. “I have to go. Emergency call-out and Doc’s busy.”
She pops onto her toes and plants a chaste kiss on my lips, stunning me at the simplicity of the gesture. I don’t even get a chance to reciprocate before she’s walking away. “Keep the sourdough warm for when I get back.”
“You’re coming back here?”
She stops near the door, slipping on her shoes. “Do you not want me to?”
“I’d tie you up in my basement if I had to, but I prefer you willing.” I flash a teasing smile. “Let me know when you’re on your way, and I’ll have dinner ready for you.”
The sound of the door opening draws my attention as Wilder strides through the entry. His brow furrows, and he takes a long inhale. He smirks. “Bread again?”
