Page 66 of Remade

The door opened behind me a beat later, and I was relieved to see it was Bo.

He grinned and closed the door behind him. “You look sufficiently shell-shocked, pup.”

I widened my eyes. “Did you know it was going to be like this? I don’t wanna sound ungrateful—I love being here—but it’s one of the most overwhelming experiences of my life.”

He chuckled. “I had a hunch. My sister’s five boys have hardened me a bit. They’re the reason I prefer to spend Thanksgiving at Em and Danny’s place.”

Yeah, I could suddenly imagine that. Because,hell.

His amusement grew softer with affection, and he stepped closer to me. “Can it be my turn now?”

Before I could ask what he meant, he retrieved a gift-wrapped box from his back pocket and extended it to me.

Suh-weet!

I grinned and accepted it. The box fit in my palm and was about an inch thick, and he’d definitely wrapped the gift himself. We used the same amount of tape. As in, a lot.

“Yours is still inside,” I said. I’d bought him a ridiculously overpriced coffee machine that Gray had recommended to me. I knew Bo was going to love it. Coffee was his preferred drug.

Alex and I had to give him our gifts together, because I’d helped her order a coffee mug that read “Not Yet. I’m Only on My Second Cup” on it.

I tore off the wrapping, and Bo took it from me so I could lift the lid off the box.

Whoa.Whoa. A new multitool—a great one that I’d looked at a few times. And what was… Gift cards too? I sifted through five gift cards, and I couldn’t believe him. I was bitching about a two-hundred-dollar coffee machine, and he’d spent way more than that.

“As your hot-as-fuck, slightly older, operator boyfriend, I’m taking the liberty of walking you through your seven Ps so I know it’s done correctly.”

Heh. Slightly older. Funny.

It was his issue, not mine. Especially when he rapefucked me six ways to Sunday, I loved that he was the big, bad, older predator who used his boy for his pleasure. It got me off like fucking whoa. And yeah, whoa, this gift was…a lot.

“Um.” I cleared my throat. “I barely spent half of this on your gift, hon. I wanna go out and buy something else.”

He snorted softly in that,you’re funny and fucking sillykind of way. “Don’t even. This is more for me than for you. Do you remember the seven Ps?”

Oh please.

“It’s Christmas, not some class in preparedness,” I accused playfully.

Truthfully, I loved how protective he was. Never in a million years would I have guessed there was an endearing fusser underneath that steely exterior, but boy, was I glad to be wrong. He made me feel incredibly special.

Bo waited with an expectant look on his face.

I sighed through a chuckle and humored him. “Prior preparation and planning prevent piss-poor performance.”

He nodded in satisfaction. “Attaboy.” He pointed to the gift. “We’ll put together your first kit as a gray man with this. Utility clothes that blend in—I don’t wanna see any tacti-cool shit in the field—a good flashlight, and maybe a folder.”

That got me all excited. The last few weeks before our brief holiday break, we’d heard all our instructors point out that we were halfway through our training. In January, an 80% workload in theory would shrink into 40% as practical drills and terrain work took over.

I couldn’t wait.

“Thank you.” I smiled up at him. “You’re more romantic than you give yourself credit for.”

He exhaled a soft laugh and kissed me on the forehead. “If you think this is romantic, I’ve definitely hit the jackpot with you, baby. Christ.” He cupped my cheek and rested his forehead to mine. “But I already knew that,” he murmured. “Know what else I know?”

I shook my head, my stomach tightening with nerves, because it felt like?—

“That I love you to stupid measures.”

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