Chapter 48
TRENT
By the time I pulled the truck up the long drive toward the house, it didn’t feel like we’d been gone almost a week. It felt like it’d been half a goddamn lifetime.
Charlotte was curled up in the passenger seat, watching the porch lights appear through the rain. The storm wasn’t heavy this time, just steady enough that everything shimmered and looked soft around the edges.
Texas knew how to put on a mood when it wanted to, and tonight, it sure had wanted to. I killed the engine and stepped out before she could reach for her seatbelt, calling to her over the roof when I saw her hand move toward the buckle.
“Don’t even think about it!”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t even think about what?”
“Walking to that door yourself.” I rounded the truck, ignoring her exasperated sigh. “I’m carrying you.”
“It’s already my house too,” she argued even as I opened her door and slid my hands around her waist. “We’ve been here after we got married, remember?”
“Exactly,” I said. “Which is why I’m carrying you over the threshold now. I never got to do it before.”
She gave me an irritated but secretly delighted look, and I grinned because I knew her tells by now. She could fight me, sure, but she wasn’t going to win.
“Trent,” she tried one last time.
“Charlotte.”
She let out a very fake, exasperated sigh but looped her arms around my neck and I lifted her off the seat, kicking the door shut behind us and starting for the porch. I fucking loved holding this girl. I’d carry her all day, every day if I could.
She tilted her head back to look at the sky, opening her mouth to catch a few raindrops on her tongue before she glanced at me. “Does it always get this cold in the fall?”
I snorted. “Cold? Sweetheart, this is a mood swing, not a season. If there’s anything you need to know about Texas weather, it’s this. Tonight might be in the fifties, but tomorrow? Eighty degrees and stifling. Don’t get attached to any forecast.”
She groaned. “I just got used to the humidity. Now I have to deal with weather having mood swings too?”
“Welcome home,” I said and nudged the front door open with my boot.
The entry lights came on automatically, casting a warm, soft glow over the table where a big vase of flowers sat—white roses, eucalyptus, and something frilly I couldn’t name. There was a note propped against it.
Charlotte twisted in my arms. “What’s that?”
“Probably from my mom,” I muttered, carrying her inside and finally setting her on her feet.
She smoothed the hem of her shirt and picked up the note. I watched her read it, her eyebrows shooting up halfway through.
“What?” I asked.
She handed me the card.
Charlotte,
Welcome back, darling. Let’s meet tomorrow morning to discuss what clubs you’ll be joining and to plan a shopping trip. You need a proper car. A truck is much too masculine for your delicate frame.
—Claira
I shut my eyes. “Lord, give me strength.”
Charlotte laughed. “She means well.”
“Yeah, she also means for us to not forget that she’s here,” I joked. “She wants to take you shopping for a car, babe. Has she ever even asked you if you wanted one?”
“She brought flowers,” Charlotte pointed out, touching the petals.
“Bribes,” I corrected.
She bumped her shoulder into mine. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice,” I said. “You should see me when I’m not.”
She moved into me then, fitting herself against my chest. My hands slid to her back, holding her close. I pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Do you want a car?”
Being here, at home, with her in my arms and rain tapping softly against the windows soothed the beast inside, making it impossible to get annoyed even with my mom right now.
All the chaos in Chicago felt far so away, we were finally free to live our own lives, and if my wife wanted a car, I’d get her one. Not my mother.
She looked up at me. “Well, I’m here for good now. I’ll need to get around somehow without always having to call you for a ride. Have you got a truck I can borrow until I’ve had some time to think?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “Let’s go to bed, wife. I’ll give you the keys in the morning.”
“That’s sounds good.” Her smile was slow and warm as she pushed up on her toes and pressed a hot kiss to the side of my throat. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now anyhow.”
I groaned and pulled back to catch her lips. My heart did insane things in my chest when I sealed my mouth over hers. It didn’t last long, though. As soon as I felt myself tightening my grip and bringing her closer, I broke the kiss and went to grab our luggage.
“Come on,” I said once I was back in the house, striding through the foyer and looking at her over my shoulder. “No more kissing until we’re in our bedroom.”
Charlotte chuckled and trailed behind me on our way upstairs, chatting about everything and nothing all at the same time.
She told me about how she wanted to reorganize the pantry, that the living room could use a bit more color, and how she was absolutely sure my mother would have her wearing pearls and white gloves by noon tomorrow.
With her voice in the air and just her presence behind me, the house felt warmer than it ever had. Hell, it felt lived in for the first time.
Every shadow seemed less empty somehow. I’d spent years walking into this place and hearing nothing but my own boots on the hardwood. Now? That was different.
“You know, we should probably get a shoe rack for the entry,” she said when we reached the landing. “Also, your closet is ridiculous. I counted four identical flannels when I was packing before we left and—”
I turned, scooped her straight off her feet, and threw her over my shoulder. She squealed. “Trent!”
“You’ll live,” I said, carrying her down the hall and leaving our luggage behind. “I’m being gentle.”
“Put me down!”
“Nope.”
I nudged the bedroom door open with my foot and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced once, hair falling into her face, her blue eyes wide and her lips parted in that way that always, always got me.
“What was that for?” she muttered, pushing her hair back.
I climbed over her, bracing my hands on either side of her shoulders. “You talk too much.”
“I was making helpful observations.”
“Sure you were.” I dipped my head and kissed the curve of her neck, fucking obsessed with the way she shivered underneath me.
Good. Serves her right for thinking a man can’t own more than one of the same flannel.
“Actually,” I murmured against her skin, “I need to lay down some ground rules.”
She pulled back, blinking as she frowned up at me. “What now?”
I kissed just under her ear and she gasped softly, but I just kept going. “First, you’re never carrying your own bags into this house. That’s my job.”
“Bossy,” she whispered, but she didn’t sound mad about it.
I kissed a trail along her jaw. We were both already breathing a little harder than normal. “Second, you’re not borrowing one of my trucks. You’re using one of ours while you decide what car you want, not whether you need a car at all.”
I brushed my lips over hers and her hands curled around my shoulders, but then I paused because I needed a breath and also what I was about to say lived in a part of me I didn’t let anyone touch.
I had to take a moment to access that part, prying it open with an emotional crowbar as I looked down into her eyes.
By the time I’d shattered the internal cage I’d kept my feelings locked in for so long, I was pretty sure I had sweat dotting my forehead from the effort, but I managed to say the words.
“Third, I’m in love with you. I’m going to need you to accept that, Charlotte. Believe it. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her mouth dropped open, absolute incredulity shimmering in her eyes, but then her lips curved into a smile and her head cocked. “Is this how the most eligible bachelor in Texas confesses his feelings?”
I laughed, my heart hammering as I dragged my nose along the length of hers. “Don’t start.”
“I read that article,” she teased quietly, wrapping her legs around my hips and catching my cheeks in her palms. “There was an entire spread of glossy photos, the broody cowboy heir with the vision for the future and abs women across the state would commit crimes for.”
“Please stop talking.”
She laughed, and damn, it felt good. I kissed her to shut her up and her hands slid into my hair, drawing me close, pulling me down until I was kissing her the way I’d wanted to since the second she’d walked into that cafe back in Chicago.
“You love me,” she murmured against my lips, her hips bucking slightly when I fit myself between them.
I bit back a moan, my rigid cock much too excited about this development. “I do. You’d better get used to having me around, Charlotte Shepard.”
“I already am.” She smiled up at me, her fingertips sliding under the hem of my shirt and her touches so light that they were driving me all the way up the fucking wall. “I love you too. I really, really do.”