Page 171 of Smooth Sailing

Since he was being so forthcoming (not that he ever wasn’t, but still), I took a chance and noted, “You seem different today.”

“That’s because I decided we’re doin’ this.”

I emitted a surprised pip of laughter. “You just decided that today?”

“No. Decided last night when I found out you were a fantastic lay.”

My mouth dropped open.

“Rounded out the perfect package,” he stated.

“Well, thank God I didn’t disappoint you in bed,” I muttered.

“Not sure you can disappoint me in anything, babe.”

Holy crap!

I mean, seriously.

Was he for real?

“I was letting my shit get in the way of our shit,” he explained. “You took the hit of Maddy, stood strong. Took the hit from your dad about your mom, same thing. Nothing shakes you. We’ll be good.”

“You wanna tell me what might shake me about you?” I asked.

“That’s for Sunday, baby,” he said quietly. “Will say, what was fuckin’ with my head was that I wasn’t good enough for you.”

My mouth dropped open again, but this time it did not only because I was surprised, but because I was angry.

“Are you joking?”

“No.” He caught my mood and cupped the side of my head with his hand. “Babe, you got a master’s degree.”

“So what?”

“I’ve never been out of Colorado except to hit Vegas a coupla times and come here.”

This shocked me.

Even so.

“So what?” I repeated on a snap.

His head went back several inches. “You don’t see where I’m comin’ from with that?”

“Not really, seeing as what it says is that you think I’d eventually think I was better than you.”

His voice shared he was getting pissed when he stated, “It wasn’t that.”

“Then explain what it was,” I demanded.

“I see your face when I tell you I never expected anything out of my life, never even thought about it.”

“I fear this discussion might be difficult not having what I need, and instead having to wait until Sunday to get it.”

He moved abruptly so he was holding my head in both hands, and his face was in mine.

“Never dreamed, never wanted shit, because I knew I couldn’t have it,” he growled. “Then I follow this gorgeous woman with sass to spare into the sweet crib she created, and I started wanting shit. Thirty-five years old, woman, first time in my life I saw what I wanted. All of it. All of what I’d need for the rest of my life. It tweaked me. Scared the absolute fuck outta me. You don’t want, you don’t get disappointed. I see now that was what I was doin’. Protecting myself. Because all of a sudden, there it was,”—his hands put gentle pressure on my head—“all of it, and I knew, I…fuckin’…knew how deep it would cut if I didn’t get it.”

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