Page 32 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis (In The Heart of A Valentine #17)

Chapter

Twenty-Two

CHRISTIAN

The cabinet door had been sticking for three weeks, and I’d gotten tired of watching Naomi wrestle with it every morning when she reached for the coffee mugs.

We were at her condo, and that cabinet was the only thing falling off the hinges.

“Hand me that screwdriver,” I said, crouched down beside the kitchen island.

“Which one?” Naomi asked, still in her pajamas at eleven on a Saturday morning.

“The Phillips head.”

She handed it over, then settled on the floor beside me, watching as I adjusted the hinges. We’d been spending lazy Saturday mornings at my place, moving through natural routines like we’d been together for years instead of a month.

“You know I could’ve just called maintenance to fix this,” she said.

“You could’ve. But where’s the fun in that?”

“You consider home repair fun?”

“I consider taking care of things that matter to me fun.” I tightened the screws and tested the door’s movement. “There. Good as new.”

“My hero.”

I was putting the tools back in the drawer when one of them slipped out. “I love you,” I said.

Naomi’s whole body went rigid beside me, and she stared at me with wide eyes and parted lips.

“You don’t have to respond, I just… needed to get that out.” I closed the drawer and wiped my hands on the dish towel.

“Christian.”

I faced her and rubbed my hands down her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it.” I kissed the top of her head as I stepped past her. “I’m going to shower. Let’s go grocery shopping after.”

I left her sitting in the kitchen, cursing myself for rushing things. We’d been taking everything slow, letting the relationship develop naturally. The last thing I wanted was to scare her off with premature declarations.

We were walking through Whole Foods like nothing had happened. Naomi pushed the cart while I checked items off the list she’d made, both of us pretending I hadn’t just told her I loved her while fixing kitchen hardware.

“We need eggs,” she said, steering toward the dairy section.

“Brown or white?”

“Brown. They taste better.”

“They’re the same.”

“No, they’re not. Brown eggs come from happier chickens.”

I laughed. “How do you know the chickens are happier?”

“Look at the packaging. The brown egg chickens are always smiling in the pictures.”

“That’s marketing, not science.”

“It’s psychology. Happy chickens lay better eggs.”

I couldn’t stop laughing because she was serious, and the serious look in her eyes just made my amusement ignite.

Sunday morning, I woke up to the smell of bacon and the sound of Naomi humming in my kitchen. She stayed wearing one of my t-shirts and a pair of shorts, and she knew that shit drove me wild.

“Good morning,” I said, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind.

“Good morning. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving.”

She’d set the table with coffee, orange juice, and a plate of perfectly golden pancakes. Real maple syrup, fresh berries, and bacon cooked how I liked it.

“This looks delicious,” I said, settling into my chair.

“It’s my mom’s recipe. She always said breakfast was the most important meal because it set the tone for the whole day.”

We ate for a few minutes, both of us still sleepy, sharing sections of the Sunday paper. It was peaceful, and that was how I wanted to spend every Sunday morning for the rest of my life.

“Christian?” Naomi’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

I looked up from the sports section, not sure I’d heard her correctly. “What?”

“Yesterday, when you said it while fixing the cabinet. I love you, too.”

The newspaper fell from my hands. “Naomi...”

“I’ve been thinking about it all night. About why it scared me so much to hear you say it.

” She set down her fork, meeting my eyes directly.

“It scared me because I knew it was true. Because I felt it, too, and wasn’t ready to admit it.

Now I’m ready.” She smiled, and it was like the sun coming up. “I love you, Christian Valentine.”

I almost lost my breath. “I love you, too.”

“I know. You told me yesterday.”

“I’m telling you again.”

We stared at each other across the breakfast table, both of us grinning like idiots, and I was amazed at how far we’d come.

“So what now?” she asked.

“Now we eat pancakes and figure out the rest as we go.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Me, too.”

We were cleaning up the dishes when Naomi’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and smiled.

“It’s my cousin. Do you mind if I take this?”

“Go ahead.”

She answered on speaker while drying a plate. “Hey, Ebony.”

“Naomi, cousin, please tell me you’re coming to the barbecue next Saturday.”

“Of course I’m coming. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good, because Mom’s been planning the menu for weeks and she’ll kill me if you don’t show up to eat her potato salad.”

“The Chiefs are not starting off this season right,” I said, with my attention on the T.V. I was only half-listening, focused on loading the dishwasher, when Ebony’s voice came through the speaker again.

“Wait, is that a man’s voice I hear in the background?”

I smirked.

“Maybe,” Naomi said, shooting me a look that was wrapped in panic and amusement.

“Naomi Blackford, are you holding out on me? Who is he?”

“He’s... someone I’m seeing.”

“Someone you’re seeing? That’s all I get? What’s his name? What does he do? Is he cute?”

“His name is Christian, he’s a lawyer, and yes, he’s cute.”

“A lawyer? Ooh, okay. Is he there right now?”

“He’s here.”

“Put him on the phone!”

“Ebony.”

“I’m serious! I want to talk to him!”

Naomi looked at me helplessly. I dried my hands and walked over to where she was standing by the counter.

“Hi, Ebony,” I said, leaning toward the phone.

“Oh my God, he has a nice voice! Naomi, you’ve been holding out on us! Christian, this is Ebony, Naomi’s my favorite cousin.”

“I thought Patrice was your favorite cousin,” Naomi said to Ebony.

“That was last week. This week, it’s you because I’m about to invite your mystery man to our family barbecue. Christian, you free next Saturday?”

I looked at Naomi, trying to read her expression. She appeared to be processing a thousand different emotions at once.

“If Naomi wants me there, I’d love to come,” I said.

“Of course she wants you there! Don’t you, Naomi?”

“I...” Naomi looked at me with an unreadable expression. “Would you like to come? To meet my family?”

I understood that she was asking for more than just a date to a barbecue. She was asking if I was ready to be a part of her world the same way she’d become a part of mine.

“I’d love to meet your family,” I said, then mouthed. “No pressure.”

Her hand touched my face, and she kissed me lips.

“Excellent!” Ebony’s voice came through the speaker. “It starts at two but come hungry because we’re making enough food to feed half of St. Louis. Naomi knows where it is. Welcome to the family, Christian!”

The call ended, leaving us standing in the kitchen staring at each other.

“So,” I said. “I’m meeting your family.”

“You’re meeting my family.”

“How do you feel about that?”

She was quiet for a long moment, lost in thought. “Nervous. Excited. Terrified.”

“All at the same time?”

“All at the same time.” She moved closer to me, slipping her arms around my waist. “So now it’s time for me to warn you about my family’s interrogation.”

“I can handle interrogation. I’m a lawyer, remember. I’ve stared down opposing counsel and came out victorious more times than I can count.”

She laughed. “My Uncle Charles is going to try to get you drunk on his homemade moonshine.”

“I can handle that too.”

“My cousin Patrice is going to ask you inappropriate questions about your intentions.”

“I’ll tell her my intentions are honorable.”

“Are they?”

I cupped her face in my hands, looking into those beautiful brown eyes.

“My intentions are to love you for as long as you’ll let me. Is that honorable enough?”

She smiled, standing on her toes to kiss me. “Yes. That’ll do.”