Page 111 of A Not So Merry Rescue
“For how long?”
“For as long as it takes to convince you to come home.”
His words give me pause. I regard my apartment, hella confused. “I am home. You’re the one who’s not.”
“Come home with me,” he clarifies.
“Oh.” A smile spreads quickly across my lips. “Might take a while. I’m kinda stubborn.”
“I have skills in my arsenal you haven’t seen yet and enough sick days to wait you out.”
“Is that so?”
“Guess we’ll wait and see.” He cups my chin in his hands. “Can we get back to the kissing now?”
“You came all this way for kisses?”
“I came all this way for you, Bundy. The kisses are bonus.”
Is it any wonder why this man stole my heart?
Two days.
It takes Beckett two days to convince me I belong with him in Winterberry.
I tried to last longer, to find out what other skills he’d useagainst me, but forty-eight hours after he arrived, it was torture to not tell him.
Wherever he is, I want to be there with him.
I didn’t even have an argument for him to move in with me. Winterberry’s in the man’s blood, and I love him enough not to deny him that.
Yep, I love him. He got that one out of me the first night. Right about the time he coerced me to a second orgasm in ten minutes.
But soon after, he echoed my sentiments. In his sex-induced, raspy voice, the man professed his love, and the words “I love you” never sounded so sweet. So tender. So phenomenal.
I don’t care that it’s fast, that we still have so much to learn about each other, or that I’m uprooting my life for a man I met less than two months ago. When it’s right, you know. It’s not worth fighting.
He offered the option of staying in his investment property. I swear it was fake, that he made it up that first night to not seem like such a creeper. But he showed me pictures—with him in them—of the progress he’s still yet to make on it. The cabin seems like a much better solution. If I hate it, I can find a place in town.
I’m not going to hate it.
Since he’s been in my space, he made it his mission to learn what else makes me tick, including asking me all kinds of questions about Evelyn—how I decided on the name, needing to see the glasses and the entire look, collecting knowledge about my process. It launched a dynamic discussion about the two sides of my personality: Willa and Evelyn. He made it clear he loves them both.
Now, it’s the third day of him staying with me, and he’s cooking breakfast in my kitchen. He came prepared with a list and forced me to the grocery store the morning after he arrived. This isn’t the first meal he’s cooked.
“Should I get used to you cooking every meal for us? Because I don’t want to be let down if this isn’t something you plan to do.”
He lays the wooden spoon on the spoon rest. “Everymeal might be a stretch, especially during the winter months when there’s decorating and plowing to do, but I’ll cook you one meal per day at the minimum.”
I’m going to be so spoiled and well-fed. No more cereal or pasta nights for me.
“And you’ll let me help clean up in exchange?”
The man visibly twitches. “If I must.”
“You must. We’ll hire a cleaning service for the cabin.”
He quirks a brow. “We will, will we?”
