He pulled her in and bent his head, taking her mouth in a kiss that was too long and too deep to be comfortable for either of them. She responded with so much warmth and passion that she surprised herself, but that was the “thing” between them, and she accepted the strength of it. When he drew away, she let her head drop forward to rest against his chest, and he stroked his hands up and down her back, down to cup her ass and hold her against him.
Oh, God, she enjoyed this, the freedom to touch him and be touched. It was enough for now. He was here, Tricks was here, and Bo was a little surprised to realize how happy she was despite what he’d told her. Annoyed, yes . . . but happy.
They unloaded the Jeep and he took the cooler; with his free arm around her they walked to the house and she unlocked it. Again she had the sense of family, the three of them, with Tricks dancing around their feet while she and Morgan emptied the cooler and put things away.
Bo hadn’t taken her cell phone with her, wanting to ensure that their peace wasn’t disturbed, and when she glanced at the big industrial wall clock in the kitchen, she was a little startled to see that it was after three o’clock. Either she’d napped longer than Morgan had estimated, or their lovemaking had taken longer than she’d guessed—maybe both. The time at the lake had flown, so what had felt like just a couple of hours was twice that.
There would be more days spent at the lake. She intended to make an outright habit of it.
She checked the answering machine: no messages. There weren’t any missed calls or texts on her cell either. She had to suspect that Mayor Buddy had laid down the law and told everyone not to bother her today, which made her want to give him a hug. Just as she had the thought, her phone played a fanfare, her text signal. That was what she got for tempting fate by thinking about the lack of calls. This text, however, was from Daina, who was pretty much immune to Mayor Buddy’s benign tyranny. The message said: You okay?
Bo texted back: Pretty much.
Daina: Want me to bring dinner?
Bo started to say no, then reconsidered: What’s on the menu?
Daina: LOL. Any takeout you desire.
Just joking. Thx for the offer, but we’ve got plenty of food.
Daina: K, let me know if you need anything.
I will.
Daina: Is Hot Stuff taking care of you?
Bo smiled. When had Morgan become “Hot Stuff”? To tease Daina she texted, Who?
Daina: Oh, pls. The hunk who looks at you like he could eat you up.
She texted back: Oh, him. But she was taken aback, because—really? Morgan looked at her like that?
Daina: Snort.
Bo deleted the texts because she always did, on the theory that she could never be embarrassed by something that wasn’t there. She smiled a little as she put the phone down, glad she had friends, glad she was no longer so solitary. Despite her best efforts to not let anyone matter to her, they did. Slowly and surely she had developed relationships, even if there hadn’t been any romantic ones—until Morgan.
Because that was the way she rolled, she went to the computer and sat down. She needed to carefully consider all aspects of the situation; to that end, she set up a chart of pros and cons, so she could clearly see and balance each item.
“You’re working?” Morgan asked from the kitchen. She thought he might be about to cook something, but she didn’t look over to verify her hunch.
“Not exactly,” she absently replied.
Under the con heading she listed: Put town at risk. She sat there another minute or so, thinking, but to her surprise she couldn’t come up with anything else. Yes, he had lied by omission, but that came under the risk to the town. He also thought any risk to the town was negligible, that trouble was more likely to come here, to her house. Maybe that also came under the same heading, and he’d taken steps to minimize that risk.
Other than that . . . what?
After fruitlessly staring at the blinking cursor for a while, she moved over to the pro column. The first thing that came to mind was that as soon as they had moved into an intimate relationship, he’d come clean. He hadn’t tried to hide it, hadn’t made excuses. His honesty there completely counterbalanced the whole lied-by-omission item. He was a man, not a man-child. He accepted responsibility for his own actions, as well as the actions of others.
He’d risked his own life to protect her and Tricks.
He stood willing to back her up any time she needed it but was confident enough that he didn’t have to make a production of it. He trusted her to handle her life and her job.
Those were big things.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him moving toward her and knew he was about to be nosy given that she’d said she wasn’t working. She hadn’t entered any of the things she’d been thinking in the pro column, and an imp of mischief prompted her to quickly type: Has a big dick.
He moved like a ghost, without making a sound, but she felt his presence like a mild electrical charge as he stood behind her.
There was a short pause as he read the headings of the columns, then the two items listed. He gave a quick snort of laughter and pulled her up from the chair, turning her to face him. His eyes were dancing with amusement, his hard mouth quirked in a grin. “All I need to know is, does the pro outweigh the con?”
She looped her arms around his neck and nestled her head against his shoulder, sinking into his warmth and strength. “No, but all the other stuff I didn’t write down does.” She had needed to think it out, but now that she had, there was no doubt, no hesitation. She knew this man, knew the steel that made him, and the fact that he was a surprisingly nice guy was the cherry on top.