Maybe this was a bad idea. But it was too late to reverse course. I had no choice but to soldier on. “It’s nothing big. Just something I saw in the window of a pet store on my way to The Gallows this morning. It’s probably stupid and I don’t even know if he’ll like it. I mean, I’ve never had a puppy, I have no idea what they like, but…”
Avoiding Cade’s eyes, I tore open the gift bag and pulled out the plush dog toy. It was shaped like a ghost and squeaked when you squeezed it — I knew because I’d done precisely that when I wandered into Wag, the pet shop just down the block from Gwen’s store, and made my purchase.
Suddenly, Cade was standing in front of me. His hand slid under my chin and he applied faint pressure, forcing me to stop avoiding his eyes. “You got my dog a gift?”
“Um… yes? Is that okay?”
He kissed me. It was a hot kiss. A toe-curling, breath-stealing, butterfly-inducing kiss. It was so good, I lifted up onto my tiptoes to deepen it. Cade pulled me closer, and the plush toy let out a loud squeak as it was compressed between our bodies.
We broke apart, both laughing.
Socks barked up at us. His dark glossy eyes were locked on the ghost toy in my hands. I looked to Cade for confirmation before I knelt down and gave it to him. The second his razor-sharp puppy teeth sank into the fabric, it was torn from my grip. Moving so quickly he was no more than a black blur of fur, Socks scampered into the living room to be alone with his new toy.
“I think it’s safe to say he likes it,” Cade murmured.
I didn’t even try to fight my smile as I turned to him. His eyes moved to my mouth and went gentle. I remembered his words the other day, after we ate lunch in the park.
That smile — on the rare occasion you’ve actually let me see it — is like a gift. Fucking breathtaking.
My stomach clenched as more butterflies exploded to life inside it.
Cade tore his eyes from my lips and turned away. He stepped nimbly over Socks’ stainless steel water bowl to get to the fridge. “You want something to drink?”
Liquid courage couldn’t hurt. In fact, it might drown the butterflies that were beginning to swarm as the full implications of being here — in Cade’s house, watching him move around his kitchen like we’d done it a million times before — sank in.
“Sure.”
“Beer, wine, water?” He peered around the open fridge to look at me. “I can also shake a mean margarita, but I’m out of limes.”
I blinked at him. “I’ll have anything. I’m not picky.”
“Not what I asked.”
“I mean it. I’ll just have whatever you’re having. “
His brow furrowed. “But what do you want?”
“Whatever’s easiest.”
He sighed, closed the fridge, and came back to me. He was, I could not fail to notice, wearing hisserious-discussionface.
Oh no.
He didn’t stop moving until he was standing directly in front of me by the kitchen island. “Imogen.”
“Um. Y-yes?”
His hands cupped my cheeks, then slid into the curls at my temples. “I know you’re not used to this, so I’m giving you a pass until you have some time to adjust. But when I ask you what you want, I’m not asking for my health. I actually want to know. And I want to know so I can give it to you.”
“I was just trying to?—”
“I know exactly what you were doing. But your tendencies to go with whatever’s easiest or most convenient, ‘cause you’re terrified to be an imposition? They’re not going to fly around here.”
My eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’m just being polite.”
“Well, stop it.” His lips hit mine — hard, firm, no-nonsense. “I don’t want polite. I want real. You get me?”
I managed a nod, though my throat felt oddly tight.