Breathe

Lucky for me, Chace came to town since Chace was awesome and since Tate was taken.

Tate grinned at me and this solidified the knowledge that if I didn’t have Chace, I’d still have a major crush on him. I smiled back as he rounded me and went directly to the cake on the tall stand on the island in front of me. I watched as he shoved his finger into the creamy, white frosting, scored it through taking a long finger full with it then he lifted his finger to his mouth and sucked it off.

Oh frak.

Yeah, if I didn’t have Chace, I’d totally have a crush on Tate Jackson.

“Are you serious?” Laurie asked and, with effort, I tore my eyes off Tate sucking frosting off his finger to look at Laurie who was, shockingly, unaffected by this and instead of looking like she wanted to jump him, she looked pissed.

“Baby, you girls are not gonna eat this entire cake,” Tate replied and I looked back at him to see he was grinning.

“Who says?” Laurie asked.

“I do,” Tate answered.

“Right, that’s a challenge we’re accepting. We’re eating this entire cake,” Laurie shot back, I felt my eyes get big and I looked down at the enormous cake.

It looked delicious.

Okay, maybe we could pull it off though I wish I hadn’t had lunch.

“You manage that, I’ll buy you a piece of Jenna’s jewelry,” Tate muttered.

“He’ll buy one for me anyway,” Laurie told me. “I have so much silver I could open my own store.”

Tate’s brows drew together over narrowed eyes and it was such a scary look, I fought the urge to lean away from him. “You bitchin’ about my silver?”

“No,” Laurie retorted. “I’m just saying you’re generous.”

“Sounded like bitchin’,” Tate returned.

“Well it wasn’t,” Lauren fired back.

“Yeesh, only these two could fight about Dad buyin’ Laurie gifts,” Jonas, Tate’s teenaged son, muttered, wandering in, looking like mini-Tate, giving me the understanding that in a few years, me and every woman over twenty-five years of age in Carnal would be moved to become a cougar.

Then he went directly to the cake, shoved his finger in, swiped off a load of frosting then shoved his finger in his mouth.

“Jonas!” Lauren snapped.

“What?” he asked, eyes big, mouth full of frosting.

Lauren looked to the ceiling before she aimed her eyes at her boys.

“Get out before I throw the cake at you,” she threatened.

“Waste of cake,” Jonas muttered.

“Out!” Lauren semi-shouted, her arm coming up, out straight, finger pointed to the back hall.

Tate grinned at Lauren then at Jonas who was grinning at Lauren then his grin went to his Dad.

“We better go before her head explodes,” Jonas muttered to his Dad.

“Right,” Tate muttered back and they made a move, saying their good-byes to me. But I watched as they left, Tate hooking Lauren around her belly, he leaned down, kissed her neck and said low but loud enough for me to hear, “Cool it, Ace. I like your head where it is.”

She rolled her eyes but I didn’t catch the full roll because Tate moved his mouth from her ear to hers and he gave her a short kiss.

When he was done, I heard her say softly, “Later, Captain,” which got her another short kiss though I looked away because I noted this one, albeit short, included tongue.

I looked back when I sensed him moving, he gave me a hot guy, bearded, badass finger flick and he was gone.

I was still watching where he disappeared into the hall and therefore jumped when a champagne cork popped.

I looked to Laurie and grinned a happy, champagne cork popping grin.

Lauren grinned back, poured the champagne and brought the glasses to me.

She handed me one then lifted hers whereupon she toasted, “To you and Chace and the time when you’ll bicker over stupid shit and love every second of it.”

Call me weird but that was the best toast I’d ever heard in my life.

I lifted my glass. “To me, Chace and bickering.”

We grinned at each other like idiots before we downed half the glass.

Laurie cut the cake.

As we gabbed, we managed to get through a third of it.

So her boys got a treat when they got home.

Which, I suspected, was her intention all along.

* * * * *

Three days later

I idled in my Cherokee as Chace’s garage door went up.

No, strike that, our garage door went up since I was now living there.

I loved my apartment. I made every inch of it mine and I thought it was awesome. Further, my stuff didn’t really fit with Chace’s décor.

When we moved me in and I fretfully shared this with him, he pulled me loosely in his arms, dipped his face close and told me, “This décor isn’t mine either. It’s Ma’s. Do what you want. Anything you want. I don’t give a f**k. Just as long as you’re happy here.”

I’d be happy on a deserted island that had nothing but a palm tree and a lifetime supply of sunscreen as long as Chace was there. And it was because of statements just like that I would.

I didn’t tell him that.

I just whispered, “Okay.”

The door went up, I drove in, parked, hit the garage door opener to set the door closing and hauled my booty out kind of hoping that Chace felt like pizza since I didn’t want to cook. It had been a taxing day at the library. In fact, it had been taxing since the City Council had its meeting, thus reminding folks they had a library, and it got more taxing after I’d been buried alive, thus making me an object of interest.

I knew it would die down and I was happily anticipating that day.

I moved through the back hall into the kitchen and as I was planting my purse on the island, I called, “Chace! I’m home.”

“Just out of the shower!” he called back. “Be right out!”

Hmm. Chace just out of the shower.

Why was I suddenly not tired anymore?

I started to move through the hall, my mind on Chace and his shower when my eyes hit a big box sitting on the sectional.

Then I stopped dead when the box moved.

What the frak?

“Chace!” I called. “There’s a box on the couch!”

“Yeah!” he shouted back.

It moved again and I took a step back.

“It’s moving!” I yelled.

“Yeah!” he yelled back and I blinked because he didn’t sound surprised.

My head tilted to the side and I moved to the box cautiously.