Page 45 of Love in Mission City

“She knows who she can trust.”

That comment brought me up short. I’d been in love since the day I met these two. It had never occurred to me that they would need more time to adjust. I’d just sort of inserted myself into their lives.

And I might’ve been in love with their daddy soon after that. What did they call it in those cheesy movies? Instalove? I never would’ve believed it.

Until I met Byron. A grumpy dog daddy who didn’t take care of himself. Since I’d barreled into his life—he ate regularly, stopped work at five in the evening, and never opened the work laptop on weekends. I knew for a fact he was getting more work done because he wasn’t tired all the time.

A side benefit was my focus had improved as well. Because I treasured my time with him, I concentrated on my work. My word count was up, and I just sensed that my editor would be pleased with this book—which was ahead of schedule.

While I was all wrapped up in my head, a big, fat raindrop fell on the table. Soon followed by another and another and another.

In sync with each other, I grabbed the leashes and Bryon sorted the recycling and garbage, we hustled to the car, and got in just as the skies opened up.

He laughed.

An honest-to-God happy laugh. Something I’d never heard when we first met. I pretended annoyance. “They’re going to have to go out later.”

He continued to laugh. “So we’ll all put on a raincoat.”

“Messes with my coiffure.” I patted my tight curls that I tended to keep short because otherwise they frizzed.

Unexpectedly, he snagged my hand. “You know I don’t care about that, right?”

“Uh…yeah…” Whether he was speaking about my curls, the color of my skin, or just me in general, I couldn’t be certain. But the way his dark-brown eyes sparkled, it almost didn’t matter. “Who’s cooking tonight?”

“Didn’t we just eat?” He laughed ruefully. “Right, that was a snack. Why don’t we do our regular meal through Boston Pizza?”

“Oh, pizza. I love BP but I’m so in the mood for Domino’s with extra cheese.”

“Whatever you want, Carter. Whatever you want.”

Boldly, I grinned. “What I want is you.”

That startled him. “I…uh…” Then he took a breath. “I think I’d like that too.”

Chapter Eight

Byron

We ate pizza. We watched the season finale of our new favorite show. We groused that we had to wait another nine months for the next season.

We made out like teenagers on the couch after our first tentative kiss.

I was never certain who had kissed whom first. Just…one moment he was teasing me about having pasta sauce on my chin, and the next moment he was licking it off.

He licked. Up my chin. Then up my jaw. Finally, our lips met.

Touched.

Pressed.

Then all hell broke loose. He was grabbing my cheeks and pulling me closer. He coaxed my mouth open and thrust his tongue in.

I grabbed the front of his T-shirt and yanked, pulling him on top of me as we crashed to the cushions

Our mouths separated as weoofed. Then his lips were back on mine. He sought the recesses of my mouth while I grabbed hisass to drag his erect cock against my aching one. Need clawed at me as I sought friction. Sought to obliterate my memories of Percy. Sought to find some kind of satisfaction with this man I was coming to care for so deeply.

Sheffield yipped.