Page 42 of My Orc in Uniform

“Stay with me,” I whispered, and he’d kissed my forehead and gathered me in his arms.

Had he slept beside me? Or…my gaze darted to the rumpled couch. Had he slept out here, out of some attempt to spare Patrick some awkwardness?

My son was talking about last night’s adventure, waving the spatula for emphasis, going on about how well his friends had worked together. As terrified as I’d been to realize he was crossing open water at night, on the way home I had admitted the truth to myself:

Patrick had done everything correctly.

He and his friends had been wearing life jackets, they were familiar with the vessel, they’d known where we were, and they followed through with their plan. They’d had no way of knowing we’d just been beached, and if something serioushadgone wrong, I would’ve been damned happy to have their help.

As it was, I gave him a mild lecture on how easy it was to call the police to handle such things, and Simbel backed me up. Still, he’d reached over and ruffled Patrick’s hair. “Next time, call for backup before you run off half-cocked to save the day, huh?”

“How about there won’tbea next time?” Patrick had shot right back. “Pay better attention to the tide, huh?”

“Fair enough.” Simbel had smirked at the teen. “But seriously, the copsaretrained to be heroes. You don’t have to take that on yourself.”

I’d seen Patrick thinking quietly after that, eyeing Simbel…and for the first time, I wondered if he’d ever considered a career in law enforcement. It seemed as if he was going to have a role model.

Assuming Simbel stuck around.

What? Weren’t you listening to all thatMatestuff last night?

I shifted, hating this uncertainty.

There is a knowing.

Well, there was one thing I was certain of. I loved Simbel.

Patrick stopped talking, and Simbel shot me a smile from behind his mug. Of course he’d known I was there; he’d probably smelled me or something. “Good morning,” he offered. “The coffee is hot.”

“Thank God,” I mumbled, stumbling toward him, as he put down his own mug to pour me some.

“Hi Mom,” Patrick beamed. “I’m making bacon. The French toast is in the oven since we weren’t sure when you’d wake up.”

I hummed as I took that first strong sip. “You should have woken me.”

“No,” Simbel corrected gently as he looped one arm around me and pulled me against his side. “You needed your rest, and Patrick and I needed to talk.”

My stomach flip-flopped, and I lowered my mug. “About what?”

The two males exchanged knowing looks. “Oh, following up on a conversation from last week.”

I straightened and put on my best Mom Voice.“About what?”

“Do you have a middle name, Simbel?” Patrick asked, turning back to the bacon. “’Cause she’s about to use it.”

Simbel was smiling when he caught my hand. “Do you really want to know before your coffee? We could have breakfast—”

“Oh, I’m awake now, trust me.” My heart was hammering. I glared up at him. “Tell me.”

“A week ago, I asked Patrick if he would be okay with me dating you, and he told me he’d be okay if Imarriedyou.”

I glanced, shocked, at my son, whose cheeks were pinkening from something besides the heat.

Simbel squeezed my hand, drawing my attention again. “He said that I brought out the best in you, that you werehappyaround me, and I knew I was happy when I was with you. But since then, I’ve realized for certain that you are my Mate.”

“There is a knowing,” I whispered.

“Right.” He tugged me to him slowly, until his arms were around my back, and I had to tip my head back to meet his gaze. “So, Rissa…” He took a deep breath and held it. “Do you feel it? Do you agree?”

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