Page 113 of My Favorite Hero

“I bet they’d enjoy it,” she countered.

“Not as much as you, Pixie. I guarantee that.” I stepped back. “Go,” I repeated.

“See you at home.”

She waved as she drove off, her words echoing in my head.

See you at home.

I liked that.

Probably more than I should.

I walked into the house, stopping at the smell. Casey was cooking.

In my kitchen.

My house had never smelled so appetizing.

I set down my bag, shaking my head in amusement at the sight of Miller on the couch, Barney asleep between his big paws. His head rested beside the cat’s, and Miller opened his eyes as I went over and rubbed his head. “Protecting your friend, boy?”

His tail thumped against the sofa, and he shut his eyes.

I headed upstairs, taking them two at a time, yanking my shirt over my head.

As requested, Casey was on my bed, waiting, the dress spread out on the comforter and posed in what I was certain she meant to be a sexy way.

But she’d fallen asleep, one leg bent, the other tucked under the blanket I kept on the end of the mattress. She’d rolled slightly, her face buried in the pillow, her hand tucked under her cheek.

She was adorable. Still sexy, but in a sweet, awkward way. I couldn’t resist taking a picture of her. I watched her for a while, matching my breathing to hers. Slow, deep, and even. I felt myself relax, and I knew she was sleeping because she hadn’t rested much while I was gone. Neither had I, but until now, I hadn’t felt my exhaustion. I pulled my shirt back on and crawled onto the mattress behind her, pulling her close. She startled, and I pressed a kiss to her bare neck.

“It’s me, Pixie.”

“I waited,” she mumbled. “Got sleepy.”

“I know. We’ll sleep for a while. Is the oven okay?”

“On low.”

“Okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

She patted my hand. “Glad you’re home.”

“Me too.”

She was out almost instantly, her little snoring sound starting up.

I pulled her tighter and let myself fall asleep.

It was great to be home.

I woke up alone, sitting up when I realized Casey was gone. I hurried downstairs, finding her in the kitchen. She was standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. She glanced over her shoulder with a smile.

“The dress is gone.” I frowned.

“I didn’t want to risk it cooking.”

I walked over, looping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on her shoulder. “Good plan.”