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But I wanted this night. I wanted thedate.

We’d spent so much time together already—at work, on that trip, at each other’s places, even waking up next to each other on lazy mornings, but this was different. This was intentional. A line drawn between the everyday and something more.

Something romantic.

And then he reached into the back seat and pulled out a bunch of daffodils.

I stopped. Just… stopped, wondering if this was real or if I’d fallen into the most wonderful dream. “You remembered,” I whispered.

He nodded. I kissed his cheek.

I’d told him once about how my grandmother used to plant daffodils in our front yard. It was one of my best memories of her. Of that whole era of my life, really. Summers with her had been the best. And he’d remembered.

“I’m gonna go put these inside,” I said, blinking fast. “I’d invite you in, but then we might not come back out until morning.”

He smirked, and I ducked inside before I changed my mind.

By the time I came back out, he was standing by the passenger side door, holding it open for me. Helping me in. He didn’t need to, but he did it anyway. He was being a gentleman.

That washim, though. From the very first night we were together, he’d made sure I felt safe, seen, comfortable. He never pushed. Never expected more than I was ready to give.

And now, seeing that same care in the daylight, with my heart fully his and my mind beginning to catch up—it hit differently.

He knew who he was. He knew whoIwas. And from the moment he saw me, he’d already decided I was it for him. But he let me get there in my own time. He led the way without pulling. And now, knowing everything I knew about him—fox shifter, protector, mate—it only made what we had feel even more solid.

We went to a dinner theater. One of those murder mystery set-ups with actors pretending to be patrons, where everyone got a little menu card and had to guess who the killer was.

It was cheesy. Delightful, and did I mention… cheesy?

We could spot the actors right away with their abundant stage makeup, overly enunciated speech, a little too eager to chat, but we didn’t care. We were in it together. Laughing, whispering guesses between bites of too-dry chicken and slightly overcooked pasta.

We didn’t talk about anything serious. Not about the den. Not about contracts or consulting or shifter politics. Just the murder of a fictional restaurant owner by an overly ambitious busboy.

It was perfect.

And when the evening wound down and we drove home, the air was quiet and warm, and I didn’t hesitate this time.

When he pulled up to my house, I didn’t play coy. “I’d like you to come in.”

An invite. One I had wanted to make the day we came back from our trip but was afraid to. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

He didn’t say anything. Just parked, followed me through the door like he belonged here. Because he did.

And like I predicted, like Ipromised, he didn’t leave again until morning.

17

GARNER

“So.” I pushed away my coffee cup. “What do we do now?”

My heart wasn’t thumping but instead was thundering in my chest. I glanced down, expecting my shirt to be billowing up with each loud beat.

Joss slid his foot over my calf, sending goosebumps shooting up my thigh. They crawled over my body’s dips and curves, and if I’d peeked inside my briefs, I’d have seen tiny spikes on my cock, the same cock that was hard and pulsing with heat. Go figure!

“I can think of a few things.”

“Such as?” My voice was more of a squeak than a commanding question or a holler.