Page 119 of Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars 6)

The pink seam of Portia’s lips tightened below her damp blue cheeks. “Listen to me, Heath. As soon as you find her, call me. Don’t try to handle this yourself. You need help. Do you understand me? This is my introduction.”

Right now, the only thing he understood was the depth of his own foolishness. He loved Annabelle. Of course he loved her. This explained all these feelings he’d been too frightened to label.

He needed to be alone to think this through. Portia seemed to understand, because she tugged her trench coat closed and left the room. He felt like he’d been hit in the head with a fly ball. He sagged down in the chair and buried his head in his hands.

Portia’s heels clicked on the marble floor in the foyer. He heard her open the front door, and then, unexpectedly, Bodie’s voice.

“Fuck!”

Chapter Twenty-three

Portia fell into Bodie’s arms. Just fell. He wasn’t expecting it, and he stumbled backward. She went with him, wrapped her arms around him, and wouldn’t let him go. Not ever again. This man was solid as a rock.

“Portia?” He gripped her shoulders and pushed her a few inches away so he could study her face.

She gazed up into his horrified eyes. “Everything you said about me was right.”

“I know that, but…” He ran his thumb over her papery blue cheek. “Did you lose a bet or something?”

She rested her head against his chest. “It’s been a really bad couple of months. Could you just hold me?”

“I could do that.” He pulled her close, and they stood like that for a while, surrounded by a pool of light from the copper porch fixtures. “A paintball game gone bad?” he finally asked.

She gripped him tighter. “An acid treatment. It burned so bad. I thought maybe I could …peel away the old me.”

He rubbed the back of her neck. “Let’s sit over there so you can tell me all about it.”

She snuggled closer. “Okay. But don’t let me go.”

“I won’t.” True to his word, he kept his arm around her as he drew her across the street to the tiny neighborhood park with its single green iron bench. Even before they reached it, she began to talk, and as the dry leaves blew over their shoes, she told him everything: about the marshmallow chicks, about her acid peel, about Heath and Annabelle. She told him about getting fired as a mentor and about her fear.

“I’m scared all the time, Bodie. All the time.”

He stroked her matted hair. “I know, babe. I know.”

“I love you. Do you know that, too?”

“That I didn’t know.” He kissed the top of her head. “But I’m glad to hear it.”

The tail of her scarf blew across her cheek. “Do you love me?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She smiled. “Will you marry me?”

“Let me see if I can make it through the next few months without killing you first.”

“Okay.” She cuddled closer. “You might have noticed I’m not the most nurturing person.”

“In your own odd way, you are.” He pushed her scarf aside. “I still can’t believe you had the guts to come out looking like this.”

“I had a job to do.”

“I love a woman who’s willing to take one for the team.”

She heard only awe in his voice, and it made her love him even more. “I have to make this match, Bodie.”

“Haven’t you learned enough yet about the perils of ruthless ambition?”

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