Page 28 of When We Breathe
“You’re not staying here for another fucking minute.” Jesus, the heat is oppressive. She’s sweaty, her cheeks are red, her eyes half closed from exhaustion, and she’s so fucking beautiful it takes my breath away in those little shorts and tank top.
But it’s clear she’s miserable.
And I won’t have that. Not for my girl.
“I live here?—”
“Pack a bag.” I frame her sweet face in my hands and kiss her softly. I’ve been waiting to do that all day. “You’re coming home with me, Shorty.”
Alex sighs and grips my wrists in her hands, leaning into me. “I’ll be okay, you know.”
“You’ll be better with us. I don’t want you up here anymore, dammit. It can’t be safe for you, and we want you with us anyway. So be a good girl and pack that bag. Fuck, pack everything. You’re staying with us for the foreseeable future.”
Now her eyes narrow. “Are you telling me what to do, Gabe Blackwell?”
“Yeah, I fucking am, Alex Lexington.” I bite her lower lip. “Now, before I boost you against this wall and fuck you, giving us both a heatstroke up here, go get your things so I can take you home and fuck you where it’s much cooler.”
She laughs, then shrugs a shoulder. “I guess when you put it like that, how can I refuse you? It’ll take me about ten minutes.”
Twenty minutes later, I have her bags, including her computer and entire workstation, in the back seat of my truck and my girl in the passenger side.
“I thought you said you’re restoring a classic truck,” she says.
“I am.”
“This is brand new.”
“I also have this one,” I reply and wink over at her.
“Maybe I should have driven my car and followed you home,” she says. “Wait. Whereismy car?”
“It’s still at the shop.” I reach over and take her hand. “I was stopping by to tell you that I need one more day with it. I had to overnight the part for your AC.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I have to stop at the store on our way home. It’s my turn to cook tonight, and I need to grab some things.”
“Good, because I do, too. My brother and Millie are hosting the family dinner tomorrow night, and I’m taking my famous baked beans.”
“Your baked beans arefamous?” I smile over at her and rub my thumb over her knuckles. It feels damn good to have her with me.
“Well, it was my mom’s recipe. I found it after I grabbed her recipe box from our old house. Anyway, it’s a good one. Everyone seems to love it.”
“So you like to cook, huh?”
She nods as I pull into the parking lot of the grocery store. “I love it. I don’t do much of it in my tiny kitchen, though.”
“You don’t have a kitchen, baby. You have a hotplate.”
She gasps as if I’ve just offended her, and then shrugs as if to say,you’re not wrong.
“You can cook all you want from now on.”
Her jaw drops as I climb out of the truck and circle around to open her door for her.
“I’m just staying with you for a few days until this heat wave is over.”
“We’ll see.” I kiss her cheek and take her hand in mine, squeezing it as I lead her into the store.
