Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
He was here, and I felt hopeful, and the house was warm like it had been when my grandparents were alive, but even more than that, I felt like me. I felt grounded and settled, like everything was balanced and…
I gasped again, the sound startling him anew.
“Will you stop doing that?” he snapped, shooting me a scowl as he steered me down the short hall.
“You should go home and—”
“What? I’m not going home.” He walked me into my bedroom, and amazingly, the room was as warm as the rest of the house.
“But…” I had to think. I had to give him a good reason to go because getting used to this kind of care and then him leaving…would end me. And he would leave; of course he would. Who in their right mind wanted a witch who guarded a rift to be their mate? That was madness. So he had to go. Now. “You’re not safe here.”
“Oh, the hell I’m not,” he groused, not buying it for a second, leading me to the bathroom, where the only shower in the house was. Amanda had put it in for me two years ago, and it had truly been a welcome addition.
I bit my lip. Think, think, think… “Your brother and your niece need you to watch over them.”
“Why?” he asked skeptically, opening the glass door, leaning in, and turning on the water. “The house is in good shape after your cleansing, and who’s going to attack them? The things—the vargrs—am I saying that right?”
“Yes, but—”
“They weren’t there for me. They were there for you. My family isn’t in danger. Would I put them in danger if I went back? I dunno. Maybe. But what I do know is that I’m safe here with you, and they’re safe there without me or you.”
I huffed out a breath. “You’re very logical.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And smart.”
He waggled his eyebrows at me.
“I just…”
“Don’t get weird. You always get weird and worry about things you need to let go.”
“What? I do not.”
“Yes you do,” he insisted. “And I know it’s well-meaning, but it’s annoying, yeah?”
Annoying? “You have no idea how I am and certainly don’t know me well enough to use the word always in any kind of sentence that describes me!” I finished, sounding damn high-handed and loud.
He waited.
I deflated, standing there feeling, I was certain, as bad as I looked.
“Do you have a—oh, I see,” he said, and there, to the right of my sink, an enormous willow basket held my clothes. This morning when I left the house, they were in a much smaller handheld rattan bag someone had given me. Where that was, I had no idea. Apparently my house wanted everything to be as Lorne expected it to be, so it was moving things from the cavernous basement that held a treasure trove of items to where they would most logically be for him.
It never tried this hard for me. I lost things all the time that never turned up. But for him, there it was.
“This is disconcerting,” I said out loud.
“What is?” he asked, peeling my cardigan off me, lifting it free, and dropping it into the lovely undyed, natural basket that, interestingly, was large enough for two people to put clothes in.
“Nothing, I—what did you mean when you said I get weird?”
“Ever since we met,” he said, slipping the T-shirt up over my head and off, “you’ve been running hot and cold crazy-fast.”
“I have not.”
“Yes, you have.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on me that I didn’t want to ever end. When he leaned back, or tried to, I realized I had my arms wrapped around his neck. “Stop it. You like me a lot, Xander, so quit with being guarded.”
What was I supposed to say to him?
Lorne motioned toward the living room. “I’m gonna put down the rugs for the dogs, and in the meantime, you get in the shower. I’ll get my bag from the living room.”
“You packed a bag?”
“I always have a go bag in the car. I’m a cop. We have to be prepared.”
“Okay, but…what rugs?”
“The rugs for the dogs to lie down on.”
As a rule, the spectral hounds did not sleep in my house with the cat. “But—”
“They sleep by the fire, right? That’s why the rugs are in that basket.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. “What basket?”
“The one by the—did you hit your head on something when you fell?”
“No, I—”
“Then take off your socks and pants and underwear and get in the shower, because I’m coming in as soon as I get back.”
And I wanted that desperately, so why would I argue? “Okay.”
“Okay.” He smiled, kissed my cheek, and left the room.
Stripping down, I realized he’d taken off my shoes and put them somewhere I was sure the house had created for him. Perhaps there was a lovely new rack.