Chapter 10
TEN
WINNIE
Fusspot Hour
I ache in all the right ways while, for once, the right man is in my home.
“I don’t need the bandages changed again,” West says quietly as I peel back one edge of the dressings I already checked an hour ago when I made him coffee after he prepared breakfast for us both.
He. Fed. Me. Can I spell honeymoon period with greater clarity?
“I know. Let me fuss. I’m off shift, remember?”
“I think that’s supposed to mean that you also get to stop.” West surveys me with a peace I’ve never associated with this man.
A burning sense of inaction, maybe back at Coyote. An endless source of action that was always a match for my brother. Sleepless hours during my own bouts of insomnia walking around the homestead.
Never quiet or calm. But the sense of peace that pervades him now is… perfect.
I can’t stop wondering when all this is going to come crashing down. Actually, I can. I can even put a timer on it.
“You’re thinking.”
My head jerks up, and the piece of bandage I tucked in a second before unravels beneath my fingers. “Dammit, West.”
“Here.” He fixes himself up—without my help, thank you so much for playing.
I stand by, useless.
“You’re not.”
“What?” I shift on my feet.
“Useless. You’re not.” West eyes me like I might explode at any moment.
“Sure.” I nod, grabbing coffee mugs and tossing them into a haphazard pile in the sink. Every inch of me is restless. I have been since I lurched out of my daze in his arms an hour ago and decided to play house in my own home with a man who can’t possibly stay.
West drifts behind me until his arms lock around my waist. “Winnie. Stop.”
I shake myself free, or try to, but he won’t let me.
“Can’t stop. Too much to do.” I wiggle for the detergent.
He passes it to me in a slow, easy motion.
I snatch the bottle from his touch like the contact might burn me, even though his other arm is still looped around my middle, refusing to let go.
“Like what?” West’s chin rests on the top of my head. His arms close in, ever so slowly preventing me from moving at all. “What’s there to rush off to?”
“West.” I try to wiggle again but can’t. “Moving, please. Something I’d like to do. Right. Now.” I twist to look up at him and find his mouth an inch from mine.
After all the kissing and… everything else, I’d think I’ve had enough. But my internal thermometer ratchets up several degrees, telling me that we have not, in fact, had enough and I’m randy and willing to go in seconds.
“Ah.” West drags his mouth across mine. “It’s like that.” He lets me go and steps back.
“Like th… What are you doing?”
He grabs his keys from the kitchen table and tosses them into the air, catching them deftly. “You wanted a full-service date, Rand.” His coal-colored eyes settle on me, steady and unflinching. “You’re getting it.”
I swallow and pivot the rest of the way around to face him. “You’re freaking me out, you know that?”
One side of his mouth turns up in a not-quite smile. “Get used to it, Winnie. Wear something… cute.”
“I don’t do cute.” The sass bursts out of me before I can think to tell him that he won’t be here long enough for me to get used to anything at all.
The smile that dominates his face is a slow assassin and should be illegal in several states.
“Damn,” I whisper as he grabs for the borrowed shirt I tossed over a chair earlier and pulls it over his head. “None of this is real.”
“It’s real. Ten minutes. Let’s go.”
“Going where?” I’m not sure I want to know. I’m used to being the impulsive one. No one else around me is anywhere as crazy as I am. Until now.
“You wanted that dream date, Rand. I’m delivering. Move that tush.” West’s fingers flex at his side, and my butt cheek throbs in response.
His laughter follows me through the townhouse as I try to figure out how he defines the term cute.