dark ops 3 - Renegade (30 page)

BOOK: dark ops 3 - Renegade

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“I’ve got this great meal in mind I want to make for you, but it takes a double boiler and a . . .” He picked his way nonchalantly around the parked cars, but the tensed muscles under her arm broadcast his nerves at this new direction in their budding relationship. “Well, let’s just say I’m not sure there’s enough room in my truck for all the utensils and spices I would have to haul over to your place.”

He seemed to want to play this low-key, and quite frankly, she agreed. Much more excitement, and her hammering heart might break one of her ribs. “Fair enough then. Sounds like I’m getting the sweet end of this deal if you’re cooking.”

“You can have the chair.” He stopped beside his truck, a coyote howling in the distance.

“Since you only have a chair, a TV, and a mattress,” she turned to face him, tugging at the edges of his jacket, “that’s mighty darn generous of you.”

“Hey, I have furniture.”

“Lawn chairs and a table to go with your grill don’t count as furniture in most circles.”

“Fine, whatever. But I also have a kitchen that rivals the set on
Top Chef
and a backyard big enough for an oversized dog.” He pulled the edges of the jacket around to draw her inside and hooked his hands low behind her back. “What do you say we fill up my house with your furniture? I’ve even got this great corner in the living room just waiting for a cabinet full of teacups.”

Thank goodness he was holding her up, because her knees stopped working. “That’s moving sort of—”

“Fast?” he finished her sentence. “Sure, but somehow it just feels right.” His hands slid up to cradle her face in his hands, the blinking lights of the little bar showcasing the stubborn cowlick above his forehead.

“Just so you know, I have never asked a woman to move in before.”

She didn’t want to ruin this moment, but he’d opened the door this time. The question begged to be asked. “What about your ex-wife?”

His thumbs stroked along her hairline, somehow soothing and sensual all at once. “We were eighteen years old, full of rebellion when we went straight from our parents’ houses into a one-bedroom apartment because of ridiculous ultimatums.”

“What’s your reason now?” She held his wrists, enjoying the feel of him, wanting more but also completely cool with taking their time so they got things just right if time was what he needed. “Why not just take things slowly?”

“We finish each others’ sentences.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I’m thinking before I say it. I may not be a rocket scientist, but I realize that’s damn rare.” His hands went still, his glinting green eyes as serious as she’d ever seen them. “And because I’m falling in love with you, Jill. I want you to know that the reason I say ‘falling’ is because I’m already learning that every morning when I wake up, I love you more than I did the day before.”

Wow. Just wow. Her mouth fell open, and she searched for the perfect thing to say back to such a beautiful way of spelling out his feelings. It had been more than worth waiting for. “I love—”

“—you, too.” He grinned. “I’m really starting to get into this finishing each other’s sentences. So what do you say we give this a try? One day at a time, accepting each other as we are while still working like hell to be even better?”

“I think that’s a plan, because I am totally and absolutely falling in love with you, too.”

He angled down to kiss her at the same time she arched up, their mouths slanting to a perfect fit that sparked her senses with the promise of oh so much more to come later. She skimmed her hands down his arms as they drew apart.

Mason reached behind her to open her door with those old-timey manners she’d come to enjoy. “So what do ya say we pick up your dog and your grandmother’s teacup and head back to my place tonight?”

She took his hand and leapt up into the truck cab. “What was it you said you’d planned for supper?”

“Anything you want.” He squeezed her fingers and smiled. “Absolutely anything.”