I cleared the door to the bedroom and Tate, standing in the middle of the room, his back to the bed and the picture, his arms crossed on his chest, ordered, “Close it.”
I took in a breath, turned and closed the door.
Then I leaned against it and started, “Tate, I know you’re –”
He cut me off on a snarled, “What the f**k, Ace?”
“I wanted –”
He interrupted me again. “I thought we had this straight.”
“We did, I just wanted –”
“Space?”
I blinked, confused. “Sorry?”
“Christ almighty, Lauren, I’m gone half the time.”
I shook my head, not following. “Gone half the time?”
“You and Amber went to look at apartments. Stella saw you and told me.”
Oh, that.
He couldn’t be angry about that. He hadn’t asked me to move in, not officially, and he didn’t seem bothered that I was living out of suitcases. Obviously, he wasn’t ready for me to move in and it was too soon to be living together, living together. He had plenty of help with Jonas; I would even help out when I got a place. But I needed to get settled and not in a hotel and not crashing at his place to take care of his cat and his son while living out of a suitcase. He loved me, he couldn’t want that for me. I needed to call someplace home, the time had come. And he loved me, he’d want that for me.
“I need to settle, Captain. I’m tired of living out of a suitcase,” I said softly.
“So f**kin’ unpack,” he returned as if it was as simple as that.
I blinked again. “What?”
He threw his hands out impatiently. “Unpack.”
“Here?” I asked disbelievingly.
I watched his face go hard. “Why the f**k not? You need space, babe, I’m on the road half the time. You want a fancy couch, f**kin’ buy it.”
“I…” I shook my head, “um…”
“You, um, what?” he shot at me. “What do you need to make this good enough?”
“Good enough?” I whispered.
He took five long strides to me, they were so fast suddenly his face was all I could see.
“Get your damned blinds, buy a f**kin’ couch, re-carpet, I don’t care, just unpack your f**kin’ bags,” he growled.
“Are you…” My head jerked spasmodically and I tried again. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
“Sharp as a tack, Lauren,” he bit out, one of his barbs that stung.
“No,” I whispered as the point of the scene dawned on me, “You’re telling me to move in with you.”
“Unpack your… fuckin’… bags,” he clipped.
I stared up at him.
Then I glared up at him.
Then I planted my hands on my h*ps and leaned in, getting even closer to his face.
“You know, Captain,” I whispered in a voice that sounded more like a hiss. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for weeks, weeks, to make it official and move in and you do it like this.” I flipped a hand out and then returned it right back to my hip.
I was too angry to notice the change in his face, I just kept right on hissing.
“Every time I walked into that closet, I looked at those bags and I worried. Was I staying too long? Did you need your space? Did you want time with Jonas? Or did you want me to stay? Should I unpack? Should I leave it as it was? I thought that was safest, so I did. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t care I was living out of suitcases on the floor of your closet.”
His hand came to my neck and he murmured, “Baby,” but I was too far gone to stop so I didn’t.
“So I figured you not saying anything meant it was too soon and yes, Amber and I looked at apartments.” I threw out my arms in exasperation. “What was I supposed to do? Read your mind?”
His fingers at my neck gave me a squeeze, his body moved closer and his other arm started to wind around my waist.
“Laurie –”
“And now this, you hear it from Stella and you come home after being gone over a week and you don’t even say hi to Jonas. You don’t ask me about it. You don’t even kiss me, you just start –”
I stopped talking because I couldn’t speak with his mouth on mine and his tongue in my mouth. I tried to tamp down my reaction but he’d been gone over a week, I missed him and lastly, but most importantly, it finally sunk in he wanted me to move in.
So it might have been weak, but I didn’t gosh darned care.
I kissed him back.
My arms were around his neck, my body plastered to his when his lips unlocked from mine and trailed to my ear.
“See you came into your biker babe,” he whispered there, his hands moving on me, making me shiver. “The escalation of attitude’s impressive, Ace.”
“You’re a jerk, Tate,” I replied but it came out kind of breathy mainly because I was breathless.
His head came up and his eyes found mine.
“Unpack your bags.”
I felt my short-lived happy vibe flee at the same time I felt my eyes go squinty.
“You’re very bossy.”
“Unpack your bags.”
“Those apartments are sweet. The one they have available has a view of the –”
His hands stopped roaming at the sides of my ribcage and they squeezed.
“Unpack. Your. Bags.”
I glared at him.
Then I announced, “Tatum Jackson, you’re lucky you’re a smokin’ hot, badass, biker, bounty hunter who looks good in jeans and is a good dad and I love you or you would seriously not be worth it.”
I thought this was a well-delivered line but he clearly thought it was amusing and I knew this because his face dipped close to mine and I felt the side of his nose brush the side of mine before he moved back again and I saw he was smiling.
Then, his brows up, he asked, “Smokin’ hot?”
“Shut it,” I snapped.
Tate burst out laughing at the same time his arms went super tight around me and he gave me a big hug.
“You know,” I told him, “this latest tirade bought me new carpet and a new couch.”
His jaw was pressed to the side of my head. He moved back, looked down at me and declared, “Chick territory, babe, I don’t care.”
“You should care,” I went on. “There’s a snag in the rug in Jonas’s room and if that starts unraveling, he might trip on it and crack his head on the nightstand or something.”