Page 108 of Double Bucked

“I think he likes you, too.”

She smiles, and my heart smacks into my rib cage.

“Now?” I ask.

She nods. “Okay.”

I pull away. I ease out of her and tuck myself away. She sits up. I help her back into her pants, and she takes my hand to get off the table.

She drops a couple of inches and has to lift her chin to meet my gaze.

“Well,” she says as she buttons her pants.

“Well.”

We have now entered the where do we go from here? phase.

“I should clean up.” I motion to the scattered remains of Claire’s meal and the broken glassware.

“I’ll help.”

I shake my head. “My mess. My job.”

Her mouth twists, but she accepts.

“Come to bed when you’re done,” she says.

My heart hiccups. But I’ve locked everything away now, so my voice betrays no emotion when I say, “Alright.”

She nods, satisfied, then turns and leaves. I watch her wobble a couple of steps (I did that) before she grasps the railing and climbs the staircase.

Come to bed. It’s not a marriage invitation. It may not even be an open door. But it’s a window, cracked open just enough for me to crawl back into Claire’s life.

It’s mine, and this feeling is so sweet I can taste it like sugar melting on my tongue.

I’m floating an inch above my body when I clean the dishes. I don’t mind picking the pieces of ceramic and food off the floor. I don’t even mind the skin-ripping, clinking sound the broken shards make as they clatter together in the bottom of the trash bag.

I can endure it. I can endure anything right now.

I can even endure the dumb, irritated look on Ransom’s face when I enter the bedroom.

He’s tucking away his bandana on the nightstand. Claire is at the edge of her bed in her robe, which parts slightly as she reaches over to moisturize her legs.

Like a child, he looks at me, then at Claire, then back at me again. His face pinches.

“What’s he doing here?”

“I invited him,” Claire says. Long blonde hair cascades over her shoulder as she rubs moisturizer over the soft curve of her strong calves.

Ransom blinks. “You kicking me out?”

“No,” Claire says as though it’s obvious. “There’s room enough for three. Move over.”

Ransom gives me a dubious look. Then he pulls up his legs in bed and leans his broad body against the headboard. “Long as I ain’t middle spoon.”

Claire slides her body into bed. She folds back the edge of the sheet, inviting. I get in behind her and wind my arm around her soft belly. She curls herself into the crux of my body, her silk robe against my chest, her hair tickling my throat.

Even after our foray in the living room, I start to awaken.

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