Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
CLOVER
I emerge from the FBI’s temporary headquarters on Rampart Street late Saturday afternoon and stumble toward the French Quarter, blinking like a victim of Airless Office Job Syndrome.
Not for the first time, I think about how grateful I am to have avoided that fate.
Hustling for music gigs in between my money job of the moment, while designing clothes on the side, has been stressful at times, but I’ve never regretted steering clear of the corporate world.
I’m pretty sure daily exposure to fluorescent overhead lights and being trapped in a warren of cubicles would have broken my spirit.
It seriously feels like years since I’ve had a breath of fresh air.
Dean dropped me off at nine a.m., but the agents didn’t get around to calling me back to the interview room until almost noon.
I killed three hours sipping stale coffee, pacing up and down the windowless hallway to the ladies’ room, and texting emotional pleas for understanding to my nearest and dearest.
If Dean decides to forgive me for rushing into danger and putting Ava and Bella at risk, I want to be ready. I want him to know that I’m a new woman, a no-longer-commitment-fearful woman, who’s ready to dance into the future with him and our girls, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.
My dad was kind of freaked out. He isn’t a fan of age-gap relationships, especially when his daughter is the one falling for a man eleven years her senior, who already has two small children.
But once I told him about Dean, Ava, and Bella—about how at home I feel with them, how safe and at peace and overflowing with excitement all at the same time—he wished me the best.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, flower girl, he texted, using the old nickname from when I was little.
You’ve always had a big heart and known your own mind.
If your heart and mind are both telling you this is right, then I think you have to listen.
Don’t worry what anyone else has to say about it. Even your dad.
But I did worry, I couldn’t help it.
I love my dad, but he’s honestly not the person I turn to for advice or even love and support. He’s just not that kind of father.
Blue and Beatrice are my family in that way.
They’re the ones who went out above and beyond to help an overwhelmed Midwestern girl get settled in the big city, the wise mentors who give the best advice, and the generous friends who rearranged their lives to take care of me when I was too broken from the accident to take care of myself.
They are my ride or dies, and if they think Dean is a bad idea, or that I’m not ready to tackle something as adult as potentially becoming a parent, it will give me pause.
I’m still not sure it will stop me—I’m so down bad for Dean, the only thing I can imagine ending this is Dean himself—but the disapproval of the people who know me best would add a layer of angst to my already very angsty weekend.
But it turns out, all my pacing and fretting while I waited for Blue and Bea to reply was for nothing.
Beatrice was overjoyed and confessed that something about the nanny thing “not working out” seemed fishy to her from the beginning.
She suspected romance, but didn’t want to say anything until she was sure.
Blue was even more Zen, assuring me that he has zero issues with me dating his teammate or an older man with children. He just wants me to be happy and to find the same beautiful, soul-deep connection he’s found with Bea.
Because I “deserve to be loved like that,” and will absolutely be “a blessing in the life of anyone who gets to love me.”
And yes, I cried. A lot.
I boo-hooed right there in the ladies’ restroom, hiding in the last stall until the emotional storm was over. Call me crazy, but I had a feeling going into my FBI interview with a splotchy face and tears in my eyes wasn’t my best play.
Turns out I shouldn’t have been worried about that, either, though.
The agents were really nice—thorough as hell, but super nice.
They grilled me for almost three hours, but they brought snacks, gave me the couch instead of one of the hard chairs, and assured me I’m in zero trouble with the law or anyone else.
In fact, not only are Dex and his entire ring of bad guys headed for a long stint in prison, but the agents made sure the good guys over at the NOPD reopened the case and will be prosecuting Dex to the full extent of the law.
With all the evidence Plato and I uncovered, they expect it to be an open and shut affair, and that I will be compensated for not only my totaled car, medical expenses, and time lost from work, but my “pain and suffering” as well.
The lady agent with the amazing pink-framed glasses offered to connect me with a personal injury attorney, encouraging me to “sue the shit” out of Dex in a civil suit if I don’t feel the criminal trial settlement is fair, but I can’t think about that right now.
I’m too happy to have this nightmare behind me and just so glad no one was hurt.
The sting went down without injury to law enforcement, Peter’s private detective network, or anyone else.
And in even better news, Plato is being aggressively courted by the FBI.
They wisely seem to see his super-hacker potential.
Sure, he got caught in Dex’s system, but if he’s this good at twenty-one, with no formal training, think about what he’ll be able to do with a few years at Quantico under his belt?
He’s over the moon, and I’m over the moon for him.
But mostly, I’m just happy to be breezing through the French Quarter with nothing scarier than a hard conversation with the man I love lurking in wait.
And yes, that’s scary in its own way. But outside in the late February air, with the sun on my face, it feels good scary. And it’s not like I’m going into this without time to prepare.
I’ve had several hours in a windowless office building with nothing to do but work on my persuasive arguments, and they’re pretty fucking good if I say so myself.
I got a C in debate in high school, but I’ve never been good at fighting for things I don’t believe in.
But I believe in Dean. In us. And I refuse to go gentle in that Big Breakup if that’s what he has in mind.
The drug ring is a thing of the past. The girls are safe, he’s safe, and I’ve more than learned my lesson about taking justice into my own hands.
Hopefully, I’ll never be in a situation like this again, but if I am, I’ll hire a private detective.
Taking down criminals is not my forte, but loving Dean and Ava and Bella is.
I’ve been good for them, I know I have, and they’ve been so good for me.
Now, I just have to make sure Dean sees how dumb it would be to pull the plug on this when we’re halfway to happily ever after.
Maybe even more than halfway…
The second I swing into the beer garden and spot him at a table in the back, under a Japanese magnolia already flashing giant pink spring blooms, my soul lights up just like that tree.
All pink and hopeful and determined to usher in a season of rebirth.
“So, I’ve been thinking, and I have several things to say.” I stop in front of the table, but don’t pull out a chair. I’m too keyed up to sit, too keyed up to keep my voice low, either, but thankfully, it’s still too chilly for most people to be out in the garden.
But it’s not too cold for me.
In fact, I sort of wish I’d stripped off my jacket before I started this. Baring my soul makes me flush all over, but it’s too late now.
Dean’s beautiful blue eyes are locked on mine.
I have his full attention, and I don’t intend to waste a second of it.
“First up, I hope you already know how sorry I am. But just in case you don’t, I’ll say it again,” I exhale in a rush.
“I’m sorry. So, so sorry. The last thing I ever want to do is put you or the girls in danger, and I swear I will never do anything like that ever again.
And for now, we’re in the clear. The FBI agents assured me that we’re safe and sound, with nothing to worry about now that the men they arrested last night are off the streets.
The danger has passed, we’re thankfully all okay, and I hope we can put this behind us. ”
Dean pulls in a breath to reply, but I cut in, “Wait. I’m not done. That’s an important part, but it’s not the most important part. The most important part is what I learned while hiding out in a stinky hotel room, thinking I might be about to die.”
My throat tightens, but I don’t stop. “I realized that I’ve been making a mountain out of a molehill. And that pushing away the kind of love I’ve always wanted, just because it showed up in a different package than I was expecting, would be the biggest mistake of my life.”
His gaze softens, giving me the courage to keep going, “I’m not scared anymore, Dean.
I’m really not. I’m grateful. So grateful that the fog cleared, and I finally saw things clearly.
” Twining my fingers together to keep from reaching for him until I’ve said everything that needs to be said, I add in a rougher voice, “Ava and Bella aren’t dealbreakers.
They’re one of the best parts of the deal.
I love them so much, and I love you, and I don’t want to move out or break up or take some time to think or anything else.
I don’t need time. I know what I want. I want you, every part of you, and I just… I hope you want every part of me.”
He stands, moving around the table without a word.
He stops just a few inches away, gazing down at me with an expression I can’t quite read, until suddenly…he smiles.
He smiles, and the clouds clear, and I swear every happy pink blossom hovering over our heads lets out a cheer.
“I don’t just want you,” he says, wrapping his arms around me.
“I need you. I love you more than I thought it was possible to love someone I’ve only known for such a short time.
” His head dips closer to mine as he whispers, “I’m pretty sure I was made for you, Clover Cummings, and you were made for me. ”
I’m so giddy with joy that it’s hard to stop smiling long enough to kiss him, but I manage.
Boy, do I manage…
I manage so well that a minute later, one of the old women by the space heater in the corner calls out, “Either get a room or get over here so we can get a better look at the show. I’m nearsighted, and Rosalie forgot her glasses.”
Dean and I pull back, laughing, and he lifts a hand in apology. “Sorry, I just—”
“You’re just in love,” the silver-haired woman in a massive sheep-print sweater cuts in with a good-natured flap of her hands. “But you look like the kind of people who have a place to go home to. I suggest you go there and enjoy each other in private.”
“Wise woman,” I murmur, squeezing Dean’s hand. “Think we have time before Elly drops off the girls?”
“If we run,” he says, grinning my way.
We run.
Dean speeds.
And just ten minutes later, we’re inside the house, kissing deep as we stumble toward his bedroom.
We make it as far as the hallway before he pins me against the wall, and I suspect we might be doing that “too desperate to get to a bed” thing we do so well.
And that’s fine by me.
Better than fine…
“God, I missed this,” I say as he kisses his way down my throat.
“Me, too,” he says, sucking in a breath as I shove my hands up under the back of his sweater. “Damn, woman, your hands are freezing.”
“Then, I guess you’d better warm me up,” I murmur, smiling against his lips as he kisses me hard again.
A beat later, I’m off my feet, clinging to him as he swoops me into his arms and makes quick work of getting us both to his bedroom and naked on that big, beautiful bed.
Then, his mouth is latched around my nipple as he fingers me into an orgasm that hits hard and fast—making me scream so loud, I’m really glad the girls aren’t home yet.
Then, he’s on top of me, nudging my thighs wider as he grips the base of his cock, guiding it to where I need him so badly that I’m shaking with it.
Coming on his fingers and his mouth are both fantastic, but neither can compare to the bone-deep bliss of feeling him tunnel deep inside me, stretching my inner walls, easing the ache even as he awakens a hunger unlike anything I’ve felt before.
I am a shameless, starving sex beast with this man.
I am wild, desperate, some might say flat-out feral for his cock, and he doesn’t judge me for it.
He adores me for it, a fact he proves as he lets me roll on top and ride him with a feverish abandon that has us both grunting, panting, sweating, and cursing as we strain toward something so much more than release.
This is communion, celebration, and the best thing that’s ever happened to my body by leaps and fucking bounds.
I wail the truth of just how incredible my man is to the ceiling as I come in deep, clutching waves. Moments later, Dean bucks up with enough force to lift me into the air as his cock pulses inside me, filling me to overflowing, and I am…in heaven.
Sticky, sexy, orgasm-flavored heaven…
“What flavor would an orgasm be, do you think?” I murmur afterward, as we lie spent on the covers, catching our breath. “If orgasms had a flavor?”
“Orange blossoms,” he says without missing a beat.
I hum my approval. “Yes, and honeysuckle. With a hint of lemon zest.”
“And something salty, but clean,” he adds, “like an arctic ocean. Or summer rain by the seaside.”
I lift my head, smiling down at him. “I think we just came up with Capo’s new scent.”
He nods seriously. “Totally. He can call it Big O in the Afternoon.”
“Is it still afternoon?” I glance over at the clock by his bed, my eyes flying wide. “Shit, Dean, it’s already four fifty-five! Elly will be here any minute!”
We scramble into our clothes and jog for the front door, shoving our feet into our shoes and dashing across the lawn. We reach the end of the driveway with just enough time to help smooth each other’s sex-frizzed hair back into place before Elly’s minivan pulls around the corner.
As soon as the van slows to a stop, the sliding door hums open, revealing two very excited little girls, eager to tell us all about the fun they had last night with their best friend Mimi.
We hug them tight, thank Elly profusely, insist that we want to host Mimi for a sleepover at our place soon, and head inside.
Just as we reach the porch steps, Edgar wheels overhead, cawing, “Cray, cray! Cray, cray,” making us all laugh.
We are a little crazy, I guess, but in the best way.
In a way that makes me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.