Chapter 29 #2
There’s already a steaming cup waiting for me at the table—my hazelnut latte. My friends are so thoughtful and amazing. Sitting, I take a steadying sip of the delicious sugary caffeine, and ready myself with my prepared story.
“You’re right.” I meet both of their expectant gazes.
“I’m so sorry for being out of touch. Things have been .
. . insane? You know how the special collections at the library gets donations from some, ah, ‘eccentric’ benefactors?
Well, I worked on one of those, and then I was kind of sucked into this pretty wild freelance opportunity.
It was a short-term, high-security research contract. ”
Lizzy leans forward, her eyes wide with intrigue. “Seriously? Like what, for the government?”
“I wish I could say. The whole thing is covered by some really intense NDAs, but I’m basically a consultant, brought on for my background with rare texts and artifacts. All I can say is the client is a very private, very wealthy collector.”
Jen raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Okaaay. And where does the bodybuilder fit into all this?”
“Kade.” Warmth spreads through my chest just saying his name.
“He’s the security specialist assigned to the project.
Because of the value of the items, his job is to stick pretty close.
We’ve been working together basically 24/7.
” The last part comes out a little breathless, and Lizzy lights up with a canny smile.
“Aha! So you’re not just ‘colleagues’,” she says, her voice full of teasing delight. “I knew it! You’re inseparable.” Lizzy waggles her eyebrows at me suggestively.
“You have no idea,” Jen mutters, but she doesn’t look convinced.
She taps a manicured fingernail against the table.
“Okay, fine. The secret agent librarian thing is weird, and I’m not sure I buy it, but I guess if anyone could do it, it would be you.
” She’s studying me, her head tilted. “But that doesn’t matter as much as this.
” She gestures at me with her cup. “You seem different. Happier.”
“You really do,” Lizzy agrees. “I haven’t seen you this . . . bright, in a long time. Ever, maybe. He’s good for you, Alanna. NDA or not.”
A blush creeps up my neck at her words. Jen leans forward, her analytical gaze zeroing in on my reaction.
“Okay, so he’s ‘good for you’,” she says, making air quotes. “But are you together together? Or is this just some intense work-husband situation? Because the way he was glaring at me in the hospital felt a little more than ‘inseparable colleague’.”
I glance at my latte, and when I look up, I know the answer is written all over me. “We’re together.” The words feel both momentous and ridiculously understated.
Lizzy lets out a little squeal, clapping her hands together and making her coiled braids swing.
“Yes! No more stupid Tinder guys who won’t shut up about their sourdough starters and crypto.
Tell us everything. How did it start? Who made the first move?
Do his muscles have their own podcast? Wait, no. Ew, men with podcasts.”
“It was fast.” The understatement of the century. “The project was all-consuming. We were together pretty much constantly. He wanted to keep it professional but . . . We were drawn to each other. Like we couldn’t stay apart even if we tried.”
“And what’s he like?” Jen presses, her protective-friend mode fully activated. “Besides being the size of a vehicle. Is he nice? Because he didn’t seem very nice when I met him. Does he treat you right?”
I think of Kade’s gruffness, his decades of isolation, and the fierce, tender love I see when he looks at me.
“He’s intense,” I say with fondness. “And you’re right, he can come off a bit, uh, standoffish.
” Lizzy and Jen exchange a look. “But,” I add quickly, “he’s the most loyal, protective person I’ve ever met.
He has such a good heart. And he’s thoughtful, and actually kind of funny sometimes, and .
. . he treats me like I’m the most important thing in his life. ”
My earnestness seems to finally satisfy them.
Lizzy is practically swooning. Jen leans back, taking a long sip of her coffee, her sharp blue eyes softening.
“Okay,” she says, finally. “Okay. I’m happy for you, Alanna.
For real.” She points a finger at me. “But if this ‘security specialist’ ever hurts you, I will personally find out what he’s securing and un-secure it. Got it?”
An unexpected and genuine laugh erupts from me, full of relief and love for these women. “Got it.”
Lizzy leans sideways, resting her head on my shoulder. “We missed you.”
“I missed you guys too,” I say, my heart full. “More than you know.”
***
Back at the den, buzzing with the simple joy of getting back into my usual routine of seeing my friends again, I find Kade at his workbench meticulously cleaning one of his many knives.
He looks up the second I enter, a smile taking over his face.
He spent so long withholding these devastatingly handsome smiles from me that I still feel knocked off my feet every time.
“You’re back.”
“I’m home,” I correct. I take in the space—his space, now ours. It’s functional, masculine, and still has the faint air of a fortress. But it’s also where I fell in love, where I found my power, where I feel completely safe. It just needs a little . . . warmth.
A mischievous idea takes root. I focus on the pile of furs and blankets in a heap at the foot of the bed from our morning.
Instead of walking over to fix them, I close my eyes and reach out with my magic.
There’s a soft rustle of fabric, and when I open my eyes, a thick wool blanket is floating in the air.
With a mental nudge, I send it drifting toward the worn green couch, where it drapes itself over the back, instantly making the living room area cozier.
I turn back to Kade, puffed up with pride. He’s watching me with a naked adoration that makes my stomach flip. “You’ve been practicing.”
“Just making the place a little more comfortable,” I reply, my magic already reaching for the fur pelts, ready to continue my redecorating. “Your system of ‘piles’ could use a little work.” The pelts fold and organize themselves onto the bed.
A rough chuckle rumbles from his chest. “My system works perfectly fine, Librarian.” But he makes no move to stop me, just leans back against his workbench, crossing his powerful arms and regarding me with indulgent amusement.
Emboldened, I survey the den, a vision forming in my mind. I spot a forgotten corner near the massive table I’ve commandeered for my research, where the industrial concrete meets the wall of windows. It’s perfect.
I flex my fingers, and the air around us hums with energy.
The vintage-style Persian rug that we brought over from my apartment lifts off the floor where it had been rolled up waiting to be placed.
It glides across the room to the corner and unrolls, becoming a splash of color against the dark wood floorboards.
My comfy armchair follows a second later, settling onto the rug with a muted thud.
I don’t stop there. A cardboard box beside the bed trembles, then one by one my favorite paperbacks float out to arrange themselves in a neat stack on the floor beside the chair.
My potted plants slide across the floorboards like eager pets finding their new spots by the window, and finally, the string of warm fairy lights snakes its way up the wall, casting a gentle golden glow over the nook.
I stand back, satisfaction bubbling in my chest. It’s a pocket of me, of my old life, carved out right here in the heart of my new one.
“All right,” Kade says, his voice laced with a deep, fond laugh. “I see what’s happening. You’re annexing my den.”
I turn to him, grinning. “I’m not annexing, I’m curating. Think of it as a professional consultation. Your den has an excellent collection of texts, but the patron experience is a little lacking.”
He strides over to the nook, the smile never leaving his face. “So, just to be clear, when I have piles, they’re a ‘bad system,’ but your piles are, what? The height of orderliness? The 5-star ‘patron experience’?” He trails a finger over one of my new book piles.
“Well, if you had more bookshelves . . .”
“Mhm. That could be arranged, you know. Whatever you need, to keep you right here.” The undisguised possession in his voice sends a delicious shiver down my spine, and he stalks toward me with a predatory gleam.
I turn my face up to him, leaning into his touch as he slides his fingers along my jawline.
My lips are just parting for a kiss when a jaunty knock sounds from the front door.
We both freeze, exchanging a questioning look. Kade’s posture instantly shifts, becoming guarded. “Expecting someone?”
I shake my head, but then a grin spreads across my face as I realize who it must be. “Actually,” I say, already moving toward the door, “I think I might be.”
I pull open the heavy door to reveal Em standing on the other side, a large bag in one hand and her phone in the other, theatrical impatience all over her face. Teenagers.
“Took you long enough,” she says, breezing past me into the den.
“I brought peace offerings. Mom’s lasagna.
She’s finally letting me out of her sight after the whole ‘hologram malfunction’ shitshow at the festival.
Oh, and Dad told me you came to visit him in the hospital.
He seemed so happy, I think it made him feel a lot better. ”
She stops dead in the middle of the room. “Whoa. So, this is the murder warehouse. It’s cozier than I pictured. And weirder. And,” she sniffs the air, “smells less like murder and more like, hmm, sexy lumberjack?”