Page 44 of Love Without Control

Brightening, I nodded. “I’d love to. Where are Jamie and Robert?”

“They went down to the house in the Keys to get it ready. It’s around seven hours from here, so they’re going to stay the night down there.”

“They said the house is in Marathon, and I’ve been researching it. I think it’s a wise area to hide. The city is over eight thousand in population, so big enough to easily blend in and not so small that everyone is in your business.”

“Which island is Marathon on?” Dane asked, eating the last bite of his dessert.

“The city limits extend to several islands. Knight’s Key, Vaca Key, Hog Key, East and West Sister’s Island, Boot Key, Deer Key. A few others too, but I can’t remember them all.”

He began cleaning up our breakfast dishes. “Have you ever been to the Keys?”

“Just Key West. My dad took my brothers and me a few years ago. We flew into the airport and spent all our time on that island, so I’ve never seen the rest of them.” I stood and helped him load the dishwasher.

“Your mom didn’t go with you?”

I wrinkled my nose. “No, she didn’t have much to do with us. It was actually nicer without her there. All she ever does is complain.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, drying his hands on a dish towel.

“You never talk much about your mother or sister.”

“They’re both dead,” he said quietly, hanging the towel with over-meticulous care on the oven handle and avoiding my gaze. “Why don’t you go get ready?”

Shit.“Dane.” He finally looked up at me, and I could read the sadness in his dark-brown eyes. Reaching for his wrist, I wrapped my fingers softly around it. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded and attempted a smile, but it was weak. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

Glancing down, I noticed the bandage on his arm and decided to change the subject. “Did Kevin work on your tattoos some more?”

Kevin was a friend of Robert’s who was a tattoo artist. He’d been working on Dane’s ink to disguise it a bit. The tribal tats were kind of nondescript, so Kevin had just added some color to them. The most notable was the longsword that took up one entire forearm.

“Yeah, take a look at this,” he said, peeling the edge of the bandage up before removing it to reveal the changes. I was astounded. The sword was no longer visible at all, the previous design now covered by an intricate peacock feather.

“Wow,” I breathed, drifting my fingers over the gorgeous teals, oranges, and yellows. The design was bold, the colors vivid. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m happy with it. Kevin said peacock feathers are supposed to transform negative energy into positive.”

“Well, we could certainly use all the positive energy we can get,” I joked, and Dane laughed.

“No shit. Maybe I should cover my entire body with them.”

Dane kept me busy for the rest of the day. We walked along a stretch of beach, sampled foods from small shops, bought souvenirs like tourists, and stopped by a Redbox on the way home to pick up some DVDs.

Then we spent the evening on the couch and laughed our asses off atWedding CrashersandDiary of a Mad Black Woman. We also ate more tiramisù after dinner, and it somehow tasted even better than it had that morning.

“Did you have an okay birthday?” Dane asked as we walked down the hallway toward our rooms later that night. He was carrying the bouquet of lilacs while I had a bag of T-shirts and jewelry looped around one hand.

“It was better than okay,” I assured him, placing the bag on the dresser. He’d effectively distracted me from brooding. Of course I’d thought about my family a few times, especially Monty since it was his birthday too, but the mopey mood I’d woken up in this morning had been brightened considerably. Because of Dane.

“I’ll just set these right here,” he said, placing the flowers on my nightstand before checking to make sure my door was slightly ajar. I still didn’t like being in closed spaces. I didn’t have full-fledged panic attacks, but my anxiety definitely spiked if the door to my room wasn’t cracked open at night.

“Dane?” He stopped on the way to the bathroom and turned. My voice sounded meeker than usual. “Can I give you a hug?”

A tiny line formed between his eyebrows but only for a second before it smoothed out and a smile snaked across his lips. “Yeah, Wildcat. You can give me a hug.”

Stepping toward him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my cheek against his chest. “Don’t call me Wildcat.”

“Don’t call me Dracula,” he retorted, amusement in his voice as he returned my embrace.

---