Chapter 31
Jo
Adam’s forearms strained a bit and his biceps practically bulged.
“Grab the headboard for me.”
I turned from the scene for a heartbeat to give myself a moment because really, sir, are you actually trying to kill me? I shouldn’t have been thinking of the romance novel innuendos, but so far, we’d hit “Think it’ll fit?” and now this, and I just couldn’t keep the blush from my cheeks or the dangerous flutter in my belly.
Honestly, those words from his mouth, even fully out of context, were kind of a problem.
“Jo? I’m sorry about this. I honestly forgot I never finished setting this up.”
He gave me a regretful look when I turned, but I couldn’t keep from laughing at myself, or him, or maybe the whole situation.
“You’re laughing at me now? I see how it is. I invite you to stay in my humble abode and you’re?—”
Rushing to him, I wrapped my arms around him. Yes, I’d been a little needy for his touch in the last twenty-four hours, but knowing someone was stalking me made me want to cling to this person who made me feel safe.
“I don’t blame you at all. It’s just, you keep saying these things that have… other meanings.”
He tilted his head, completely confused. “Like…”
My cheeks downright burned. “Um, like, well, like, ‘Grab the headboard for me.’”
He waited for more, but when there wasn’t, he huffed a laugh. “Okay, you got me. I have no idea why that’s funny.”
I covered my face for a minute, then dropped my hands and laughed. “Um, yeah, so you know some romance novels are on the steamier side of things?”
He nodded, eyes keen.
“And one of the things that sometimes happens in some, um, steamy scenes is the hero will say that… but not while he and the heroine are moving furniture.”
Twin flames lit his eyes, and then he threw his head back and laughed loudly enough I felt it in my chest. My blush deepened yet again, and he hauled me into a bear hug.
“Oh my, my, my, Josephine Malcom. You have a scandalous little mind, don’t you?”
He ducked his head and his expression was so… well, honestly, it was so delighted and loving, it stole my breath.
“It’s not scandalous. It’s just aware of the wonderful world of romance and the many double entendres that apparently do happen in real life.” His sparkly blue eyes were making my stomach all swoopy.
His grin widened and his fingers sifted into the hair on either side of my head. “What am I going to do with you?” His voice was gruff and low now.
“You could kiss me, I guess.”
His smile flashed one more time before he took my mouth with the softest, fastest kiss, it was more tease than actual kiss.
I kept my eyes closed, waiting for more, but none came. When I finally opened them, he gazed back at me, so much heat and longing there I could hardly get out the words. “Is that all you’ll give me?”
He laughed softly. “Oh, Jo, that’s so far from all I want to give you.”
The kiss that followed was one that lit every nerve ending on fire and made me hunger to the point I ached. His hands in my hair, my hands in his short strands, he molded us together with such skill and confidence and command, I never wanted it to end.
Until actual hunger made itself known via a horrifying sound courtesy of my stomach. He pulled back and looked almost as delighted as he’d been before the kiss.
“You need food.”
I wanted to wipe the amused little tug of his lips right off his face, but he was too handsome, and it was clearly true. “Why do you look so pleased by that?”
He shook his head, his expression sobering a touch. “I like everything about you.”
That hit an unknown mark in me, a bullseye I’d never realized I had. “Oh” was all I could muster, because what else could I say?
He linked our fingers and tugged me along behind him to the kitchen, leaving the bedframe and mattress askew and his guest room a few steps shy of ready for me.
Adam in the kitchen was an unfortunate revelation. He assembled a meal for the two of us in a matter of about fifteen minutes—penne pasta with chicken and summer vegetables in a lemony caper sauce complete with slinging the kitchen towel over a shoulder at one point. It was both simple and fancy, and when he produced a crusty baguette and slathered a piece with butter before handing it to me, I fell a little harder.
Had I only ever dated boys? Was that the difference here? Or was there something about these Saint men, or maybe men who’d served in the military, who were consummately capable in these earthy, obvious ways I couldn’t resist?
I didn’t subscribe to the idea that in order to be manly and appealing to a woman, a prospective partner for me needed to be a member of the warrior archetype. I had a fairly sensitive father—I mean my sweet dad had been a workaholic, but he’d been an accountant, and then he’d followed his dreams to a little mountain town and opened a bookstore. I hadn’t exactly been raised with a paragon of what much of society would tell me was attractive.
I’d never wanted a man who was all muscular and couldn’t cry because he was just too manly. Gross. And that was no doubt why meeting Bruce Camden and learning he was a faithful book club attender, guardian to his little sister, and a little bit of a romantic at heart had reached out and grabbed me.
Bruce was precious and just right for Nikki. The more I got to know Adam, the more I wondered… the more it felt like he might just be right for me.
He was this triple threat of sexy muscles, endless capabilities, and softness. Yes—he had his tender side for his friends he would never convince me was a failing. And all of it on display here in his clean, orderly home with sensible furnishings and a gloriously stocked fridge was nearly too much.
“Taste okay?” he asked after we’d been eating for a few minutes.
“Yes. It’s delicious. I was just thinking I’m not sure I’ve had anyone cook for me—certainly not something they hadn’t planned out.”
One boyfriend way back when before grad school had tried to impress me. He’d made us rare strip steaks and an undercooked baked potato. I’d choked it down and then felt sick the rest of the evening—he’d been embarrassed and admitted he never cooked. Ah, well. It didn’t end up working out, anyway.
“I’m decent at a few things. E’s the real chef between us. He actually went to culinary school for a while after the Army.”
“I don’t think I knew that. He’s a jack-of-all-trades, isn’t he?” I smiled at the thought of my friend creating culinary masterpieces for his future partner.
Adam leveled me with his blue eyes. “He is that. And he’s a deeply decent man. I’m really proud of him.”
“Sometimes, you talk about him like he’s… I don’t know. I can’t figure out what it is other than maybe self-deprecation or condemnation paired with your love for him?” It wasn’t a particularly cogent question, but he nodded in understanding.
“I think I feel the difference between us so much more now than I did when we were younger. I’m not sure why other than that I see his hope for the future—the way he wants a family so much and the way I’ve avoided that for years. I’ve realized a lot of it comes from choices I made, yes, but also at having seen my mom miserable and single for most of my formative years, whereas she found our stepdad when Ethan was in junior high, right after I enlisted. And that really changed how he grew. I envy him sometimes, but I’m also grateful he had that experience.”
A bittersweet smile flitted across his face before he continued. “He saw what a loving relationship looks like—how a man can make a woman happy in a healthy way. How it can work.”
My throat cinched tight against a swallow. I heard the unspoken words there—he saw it, and I didn’t. He’d argued he didn’t know how to make a relationship work and this had to be part of it—not just his past failure with marriage but also his lack of a model he could emulate or even understand, maybe. But here he was, with me.
Right as I found my words, he spoke again. “Enough of that, though. I gather you told your dad about your writing. How did that go?”
I saw it for what it was—a need to change the subject. I’d give it to him this time, but we’d circle back to the matter soon because we’d have to. If this relationship kept going the way we were headed, and I certainly hoped it would, then we’d need to come back and face all of those fears down.
Lucky for him, I’d never been a coward.