8. Willow
Chapter 8
Willow
After I get a load of laundry running in the washing machine, I find Lennox sprawled on the sofa with Chewy laying across his chest, looking smug as hell. The man’s a walking contradiction, all brooding intensity and surprising charm. And right now, he’s watching a dog show with my spoiled rotten pooch. I try not to laugh, but a snort escapes me anyway .
“You boys enjoying the show?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe, trying for casual but feeling anything but.
He looks up, his gaze lingering on me long enough to make my pulse jump. That smoldering look could melt asphalt. “We’re having the best time.”
“I hate to interrupt your boy time, but I need a favor.” I’m tired of wearing the same three outfits, so it’s time to do something about it.
He raises an eyebrow. “What do you need, Spitfire?” The way he says the nickname turns my heart to mush.
“I need to grab a few things from my apartment. I, uh, didn’t exactly pack for a… long stay.” I stress ‘long’ just enough to leave the tension hanging thick in the air. “Plus, I’m really missing having my own set of wheels.” Not that I don’t appreciate everything he’s done, but staying cooped up in his home is starting to wear on my nerves. “And I have a few interviews next week,” I add, letting him know I’m not going to be mooching off him forever.
“You don’t have to find a job right away.” He walks over and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll take care of you, Spitfire.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me. We’re equals in this relationship.” We need to get that straight from the beginning. I’m pretty sure he already completely owns my heart, but I’m not going to let him run the show.
“I’m glad to hear we want the same thing.” He smirks and his cocky, infuriating smirk makes my stomach clench. “We’ll take care of each other.”
“Now that we’ve got that cleared up, can we grab a few things from my place?”
“Sure, Spitfire,” he says, his voice a low growl. He stands and stretches before scooping up Chewy. “We can stop by the pet store and grab a few toys for the little man while we’re out.”
“You’ve already bought him a new bed, toys, and had a doggie door installed.” It seems like every day, there’s another delivery for my spoiled pooch.
“The little man has needs.” He laughs and opens the truck door for me. His truck is a black behemoth. It freaking matches Lennox’s personality perfectly.
I climb in, sinking into the soft leather before Lennox places Chewy in my lap.
We’re heading to my apartment, but first, there’s a necessary detour according to Lennox.
The pet store is a cacophony of barking, meowing, and the incessant squeak of plastic toys. Lennox navigates the chaos with surprising ease. He’s completely focused on Chewy, who’s currently engaged in a silent power struggle with a particularly fluffy-looking stuffed squirrel.
“He needs more squeaky toys,” Lennox announces, his voice a low rumble that's strangely calming amid the pet store pandemonium. He grabs an assortment of brightly colored squeakers, a pack of tennis balls, and an electronic treat-dispensing toy that looks suspiciously complex.
“You’re spoiling him,” I say, a teasing smile playing on my lips. Lennox has been working overtime to win over my stubborn little animal, but Chewy’s putting up a fight. He’s not ready to completely trust Lennox.
Lennox glances at me, his eyes glinting with amusement. “He’s been a good boy lately. He deserves it.” He adds the treat-dispensing device to the pile with a surprisingly tender touch. There's a softness to him when he's with Chewy that I find completely endearing.
With Chewy happily gnawing on a new squeaky hedgehog, we finally head toward my old apartment. I unlock the door, and the familiar scent of my favorite candle hits me.
I pack up everything I’m planning to take today, and it doesn’t take long at all. Before I know it, we’re back in his truck.
On the way back to Lennox’s house, we stop at my old office. On the day of the raid, I left my car there. Lennox had one of his FBI buddies check in to make sure it’s okay, but we didn’t bother picking it up since I didn’t really need to go anywhere.
After dinner, I walk through the house and realize Chewy has turned it into a minefield with his newly acquired squeaky toys. The little furry bandit has already stashed them everywhere. Lennox chuckles and shakes his head as he watches the little stinker find new places to hide toys.
I’m unpacking my small suitcase and duffel bag. My life, it seems, fits surprisingly neatly into these two bags. I moved straight from a tiny college apartment to my equally small efficiency apartment when I moved to Silver Spoon Falls to take my job at Cavani Investments, and I didn’t have much to bring with me.
Lennox shows me to one side of his walk-in closet. It’s huge, enough to house a small boutique, and he’s already cleared out half of it for me. He also gestures toward half of the drawers in his dresser.
“Make yourself at home,” he says, his voice low and husky.
I raise an eyebrow. “So, we’re really going full-speed ahead moving in?” I ask, my voice laced with a touch of playful sarcasm. The truth is, the question hangs heavy in the air, my heart fluttering with a mixture of excitement and apprehension .
He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. He walks toward me, his footsteps echoing across the polished floor. He leans against the doorframe, his eyes glinting.
“Spitfire, are you seriously questioning whether we’re together?” He leans in, his lips a hair's breadth from my ear. “I thought that had been established when I started doing everything in my power to knock your ass up.”
His breath tickles my ear, his closeness overwhelming. The scent of his cologne, that same musky, intoxicating blend, is all around me. It's suddenly very hard to think.
“Okay. I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page,” I manage to say, trying to sound flippant. But the truth is, a rush of happiness warms me from the inside out. A wave of something warm and wonderful washes over me.
He smiles, a slow, lazy smile that showcases the playful glint in his eyes. “We’re in this together, Spitfire. From now on.”