Page 66 of Broken-Hearted

“You don’t joke with me,” I suddenly realize. “Regan said you were a joker, and I’ve heard you crack jokes with your packmates, but you don’t with me.”

“Do you want jokes from me?”

I take my time thinking over my answer as he studies me, his expression impossible to read. “No, I think I like the way things are now.”

He smiles. “So do I.”

Nathan—and the Blackshaws—have made me feel welcome and warm, showing me what it would be like if I stayed which is tempting. I can’t say I’m not tempted.

There’s no pushing. No force or attempt to convince me of anything. Just the option to stay if I want or leave if I want that to. It’s a very freeing feeling.

I think that’s why I pull him closer instead of shoving him off the bed.

I bridge those last inches between us and touch my lips to his. “Thanks for coming to Rosenwood after me, Blackshaw.”

And thanks for not pushing me to talk when it’s not easy for me to open up.

He brushes the hair from my face. “So am I. Your breakfast is getting cold.”

“I don’t care about breakfast,” I say as I pull him toward me.

I just care about you.

17

Iopen my eyes and smile when I see Nathan’s phone charging on my bedside table.

The battery was nearly dead, and I kept forgetting to ask Nathan if I could borrow a charger so I could call my sister. He must have brought the charger over when I was sleeping.

I poke his side. “Nathan?”

He lifts his head from the pillow and blinks blearily at me. “Peach, you broke my brain, my body, and my ability to function for the next twenty years. Please tell me you don’t want more sex. I don’t think I have it in me to give it.”

“Really?” I arch a brow.

His expression is thoughtful. “I guess I could dig out a little energy from…”

I laugh. “You have to go back to the house. I need to speak to my sister.”

He kisses me and rolls to his feet. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Maybe try saying it without an air of expectation, Blackshaw,” I mutter, unplugging the phone from the charger as he pulls on a pair of gray sweatpants. He must have grabbed achange of clothes as well as the phone charger from the house while I was asleep. I don’t remember it being there before.

The phone hasn’t fully charged yet, but one bar should be enough for a few minutes to catch up with Martha. We’ve texted every now and again, but I miss her voice.

“I understand that you miss me and would like me to come—” He laughs as he catches the T-shirt I aim at his head.

“Thanks. I was just looking for this.” He salutes me with his shirt and heads for the door.

“You’re not putting your shirt on!” I yell after him.

He grins at me as he backs up. “You like me out of it.”

I flop onto my back, but I’m still covertly watching him because he’s right. I do like him out of his shirt.

As he pulls the door open, I sit up. “Blackshaw?”

He halts. “Peach?”

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