Page 63 of Bounty
Now that I was there, time crept by. Where was he already?
I was too excited to stay in one place. I’d dreamed of a future with Slice for so long. I’d longed to live my life as I saw fit—Mom had livedherlife. I’d never understood her obsessive protectiveness toward me, but everything fell into place when it was meant to.
Finally, Slice’s truck gunned into view. Clapping, I bounced up and down at the music blaring from the sunroof. I focused on the driver.
Slice. AKA my boyfriend.
A goofy grin spread across my face. Slice was my boyfriend. Butterflies swooped in my belly at the thought.
He pulled up beside me. I’d intentionally dressed colorful, so he could easily spot me. Throwing the truck in park, he hopped out and strolled to me. His long, beautiful hair had no tether, flowing freely around him. Underneath his denim cut, a short-sleeved T-shirt stretched across his muscles. Powerful thighs outlined his jeans, and my nipples hardened at the bulge in his crotch.
Wrapping his strong arms around my waist, he kissed the top of my head and held me close. Burying my nose in the crook of his neck, I inhaled his scent and hugged him, reveling in his nearness.
“I missed you, sweetheart,” he breathed into my hair.
“Ditto.” As I sank into his embrace, it was the only word I could manage.
During my flight, doubts assailed me. Not only was I moving away from home and leaving my family, I was moving to another state, a place I’d never visited. I wondered if I made the right choice or if I was an impulsive idealist. Yet how secure and cherished I felt in his arms arrested my fears.
I definitely made the right choice.
He pulled away ever so slightly, bent down and kissed me. It was brief and chaste, leaving me wanting more, and desperately wishing we were at the apartment.
“C’mon, Effie,” he said, releasing me. He transferred my bags from the cart to the truck bed. “Let’s go home. I can’t wait to show you our place.”
Home.
The word resonated, filling me with giddiness so intense, I giggled. My home was with Slice now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Idle chatter and off-key singing highlighted the drive to the apartment. We took turns picking songs to play on the aux cord. Neither of us could carry a tune, but we still had fun.
My new home was an hour away from the airport, nestled in a quiet neighborhood brimming with manicured mid-centuryarchitecture. According to GPS, we were twenty minutes away from downtown, a slice of suburbia amid the city. Towering oaks lined the street, creating a canopy that filtered out the sunlight. The five-story complex was constructed of red bricks with white siding. Small balconies graced each unit. Residents of all ages milled about, walking their dogs, jogging around, and playing games.
Admittedly, it shocked me. Slice had only sent pictures of the interior and withheld the exact address, likely a safety measure in case our texts were compromised. I had expected us to be in the heart of Oklahoma City, not the picturesque outskirts.
“This neighborhood looks so nice,” I stated as Slice parked the truck.
He cocked a brow. “Did you think I’d choose a shitty area?”
Fuck, was that the impression my words gave?
“No, no, of course not.” My face heated at my blunder. While I saw the inside of the apartments before we chose, I’d never seen the surroundings. “I just didn’t expect the area to look like an inspiration for Norman Rockwell.”
“Didn’t he mostly paint holiday and historical shit?”
“His paintings try to capture an idealistic version of the lives of everyday Americans. This,” I stated, indicating the area with my hand, “is an ideal for many people.”
He let out a low whistle as he cut off the engine, grinning at me. “My girl knows her shit, huh?”
My girl.
I’d never tire of hearing that.
“I was at the top of my class in honors art class, baby,” I bragged.
He chuckled and I giggled.
Like a true gentleman, he opened my door for me, holding my hand as he helped me out of the truck. He grabbed my twooversized duffle bags but allowed me to roll my suitcase, so I didn’t feel like a complete burden.
