She jogged to the pan, took it off the heat, and stirred it. “Saved it,” she sing-songed.
Rex walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. It really didn’t matter that she was pretending not to be freaking out. There was no situation in which that man, leaning like that, would not qualify as a full-on thirst trap. He’d just come out of the shower, his hair still wet and unruly, and he would taste—
He raised an eyebrow. “Should I call Owen and tell him to take the long way here? Like, forty-five minutes longer?”
“That would really help the anxiety I clearly don’t have.” She took a long breath in. “But I would feel bad. It’s the first realdinner since you moved in here, and I was looking forward to it. You should keep the idea, though.”
“The idea is always there.”
She pulled his arms open and snuggled into him. “You know how much I love consistency. And you.”
She rose on her tiptoes to kiss him, light on his mouth, then rested her head on his chest. Her system relaxed the second his arms wrapped around her.
Ping.
The sound sliced through the kitchen.
Zoe froze.
Rex kissed her hair.
The phone lit up on the counter.
For one very heavy second, neither of them moved.
Then Zoe lunged. She grabbed the phone, glanced at the screen, and bolted to the computer. It was not graceful or dignified, just a barrage of feet and urgency as she sprinted to the kitchen table. She tapped randomly on the keyboard to wake it up.
Come on, come on, come on.
She opened her email.
Clicked.
Come on, come on, come on.
The screen loaded.
Rex was just behind her, close enough to be there if she needed him, far enough not to crowd.
The report opened.
Lines of data. Charts. Numbers.
Her eyes moved fast. Faster. Scanning, cross-checking, skipping ahead—
Then stopped.
She stilled.
And before the next thought could form, she turned and jumped on him.
He caught her—he always did—hands on her as she wrapped her legs around him and threw her fists in the air, trusting he would still hold her. “It worked!” she screamed. “It freaking worked!”
Then she was kissing him, laughing, the bond flooding with relief and happiness—hers, his, it didn’t matter. It was theirs, and it was glorious.
“I love you so much,” she said between kisses.
“You did it, Moonbeam.”
