Page 6 of Splintered Security (Aspen & Evergreen #2)

girly shit

Ren

Before she walked in on me rubbing one out to thoughts of her. She doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Right. So—” I stand and circle the bar, reaching into a drawer to grab paper and pen. “Things to do today. Get a marriage license. Buy a dress. Buy a new phone. Do you need shoes?”

She meets my gaze after a big bite of pasta and nods. I drag my bowl toward me and continue eating, but with the counter between us. Her warmth and her familiarity were enough. Closing her eyes and moaning with each bite was a fight for my dick. He was losing, and so am I.

I grab us each two glasses of water and ask again when her mouth isn’t occupied with my cooking. “Anni, what do you need to get tomorrow?”

“Well, I’d say I have the clothes on my back, but actually I have the clothes on your bathroom floor. I need to go back to Pueblo. I didn’t pack anything when I left. I came to talk to you, not go on the lam. ”

That endears a smile. Anni saying “on the lam” is worth one.

“We’ll go back there. But not tomorrow. So, you need shoes, clothes, underwear, girly shit. What else?

“Girly shit?” A smile breaks across her face. “That’s about right. If I’m good to sleep in your tees, I don’t need pajamas. This is super comfy and it smells good.” She pinches the shoulder of my T-shirt and pulls it away from her skin, demonstrating the room she has underneath.

Fuck me. I write down pajamas, when I want to write down Amish pajamas. High neck, long sleeves, maybe with some itchy ridiculous lace. Something atrocious. Maybe it would help.

Finishing my carbonara, I throw my bowl in the dishwasher, doing the same with the skillet and the knife, before returning to my list.

“Think we can be out of the house by nine in the morning? Are you a breakfast person? I’m generally just coffee first thing, but first thing is typically about ten.”

I work through the kitchen, setting up the coffee pot, doubling what I typically do—not because it’s necessary, but because I need something to focus on besides Anni in my tee, in my kitchen, fresh faced from a shower and perfect.

“Yeah. Way doable. Can I wash my clothes so I have something to wear that isn’t your underwear or my gross stuff from tonight?” She scrapes the bowl for the last remnants of the meal, and I secretly smile that she loved it enough to eat every bite.

Leaving her to the last of her dinner, I collect everything on the bathroom floor. In the laundry room, I toss all of her clothes in the washer. I take the tatters of what’s left of mine to the trash.

I return to find her in the kitchen at the list, her bowl already in the dishwasher. Her head lifts when I enter. “There’s a lot to do tomorrow. Certificate first? Phone second? The mall after for the rest?”

“Sure. Are you tired?”

“Exhausted and wired at the same time.”

“Same. Come on. Let’s get you settled. It’s going to be a long night.”

Her face falls as something I can’t read crosses her features.

I cross to her and tip her face up like it’s totally natural for us. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass.”

“What’s this about?”

“Just hating that I’m putting you out and it’s so hard on you.”

“Did I complain?”

“Well, ‘It’s going to be a long night,’” she repeats in a deep voice, mimicking me. “And you put pajamas on the list.” Her eyes turn down in embarrassment. “I’m sorry I have to use yours tonight. I didn’t know it bothered you.”

“Annika.” I wait for her eyes to meet mine before continuing.

“I need to wake up every hour to check you for a concussion. My back is fucked and getting comfortable is going to be a challenge. And you can sleep in whatever the fuck you want to. I’m not complaining.

” Well, my dick isn’t complaining, that’s for sure. “I want you to be comfortable. ”

She holds my gaze and nods.

“Something to know about me…” I wait for her acknowledgement. “I’ll tell you if you need to know something. I won’t hold back.” I squat a little, moving my face closer to hers. “Nothing I said tonight is because I’m angry with you or annoyed at you. Got it?”

She nods again. And, fuck me, she licks her lips.

I release her and take a huge step backward.

No clue how we’re going to make this work, but fucking her in the kitchen after surviving a club explosion isn’t going to be the starting line.

Step one for a rocky start to a marriage: reactive sex after an emotionally charged situation with no forethought. But sinking into her?—

“Are we good?” I ask.

“Yep. Something to know about me… I stink at confrontation. I hate it and will avoid it at all costs. You’ll have to call me out on it, but be gentle, because it scares me.”

“I know that. Or, at least, I expected that. I’ll be gentle with you, Anni.”

Anni

Melt my heart, why don’t you, Lorenzo Gallo.

He extends a hand, and I accept it, and we walk down the hall to his room .

“I, uh…”

“Do you know how many times, just today, you’ve started a sentence around me only to second guess yourself and cut off your words mid-thought?”

I don’t, but I’m guessing the brutal-honesty-slash-gentle-confrontation part has begun. “Are you going to tell me?

“I stopped counting at six, and that’s not the point. I’m merely mentioning you don’t need to worry. Speak plainly with me. I can take it.”

“Okay. Why are we going to your bedroom? I can sleep on the sofa.”

“Because I’m being selfish. I don’t want to have to walk down the hall every hour to check your eyes.

It’ll be way more convenient to just tap you, check, and go back to sleep.

And because having you comfortable with me isn’t a bad thing when we have to convince people we’re in love in less than thirty-six hours. ”

By the time he’s finished with his reply, we’re in his bedroom, and I’m desperately trying to figure out what to do. My first stall tactic is to go pee. But that’s quick, so then I’m left with stall tactic number two. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

He rounds the bed silently and opens a drawer under the sink, pulling out a head for an electric toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. I load up and begin while he settles into the bed, groaning a bit and settling on his side, the sheet bunching around his waist.

When I’m all out of stall tactics, all I’m left with is getting in bed .

With Ren Gallo.

My childhood-crush-turned-fiancé.

I slide under the covers, staying as far away from him as I can on the large mattress. I roll so my back is to Ren, practically hugging the edge of the bed, and fight to find sleep.

My dreams are wild. Explosions and sirens. Animals and bright colors. Wedding bells and confetti. And August.

“Anni? Anni.”

Who is that? And where am I?

Fear hits first. The light is in the wrong place in the room, the smell is wrong, and there’s a huge warm hand on my shoulder.

“Wake up, Anni. I need to check your eyes.”

Ren. Thank God, it’s just Ren.

I roll to my back to see him looming over me. “You’re not going to like this.” And with that preamble, he shines a light in one eye and then the other. “Good. Go back to sleep.”

Sure. “No problem. Strange bed, strange room, new house, weird sounds, and the damn lights in my eyes. Sounds peachy.” As if I could go back to sleep.

Apparently, I do, because it’s lather, rinse, repeat however many more times until sunlight pours in the windows, and I wake, wrapped in Ren’s arms. My hands rest between us and my face rests on his biceps, my forehead on his pec. This shouldn’t be comfortable.

But it is .

Enveloped in his warmth, I fake sleep for a moment or two longer. I don’t want to move and break this up. And I certainly don’t want to confront that fact either.

“Anni.” Ren’s low growl rumbles through his chest, but I feel it everywhere we’re connected.

I pretend not saying anything means I’m still asleep.

“Sunshine, I know you’re awake.”

My eyes flick to his. “How?”

Dear Lord, his face in the morning light, the smile that plays on his lips, the scruff of his black beard. How will I ever survive this farce?

“You were soft in my arms. Then you went rigid, and your breathing changed. Also, I’ve known you for a long time, and you’ve never been a good liar. I like that about you.”

Oh. Well, I like that. “You’re hot.”

His eyes melt, and his smile goes wide. “Why, thank you. Are you hitting on your soon-to-be husband?”

“No. I meant…” Gah. I meant it’s too warm, but saying that takes back the compliment, and his smile is worth my embarrassment. Almost.

“You meant what?”

“Time to rise and shine,” I sing-song and make to spring out of bed.

“Whoa.” A strong arm banding my shoulder hauls me back into position. My face is so darn close to Ren’s smiling one that my breath seizes in my lungs .

“What?” My voice comes out on a squeak.

He stares into my eyes from so close that I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to kiss me. Hell, I’m wet thinking about him kissing me.

“Your eyes are good. How’s your head?”

Oh, he’s simply being protective Ren and checking on me. I close my eyes to break the connection and to stop the lust I’m sure is written all over my face.

“Nothing some water and Tylenol won’t fix.”

He gives me a squeeze, but says nothing. When my eyes open, he studies me for longer than I’m comfortable with. His face tips to mine, inching closer and closer, and I hold my breath.

Hoping.

Wishing.

Longing.

And my phone rings with the sound of a siren.

He stiffens before closing his eyes and retreating.

“What is that?” he demands as if my ringtone is offensive.

It is. I picked the absolute scariest one for Heath Giltenhouse. Not that I should intentionally spike my adrenaline and anxiety before dealing with him, but it seemed fitting.

“Heath.”

He looks over my head toward the bathroom where the device pauses only to resume immediately .

“It’s not going to stop.” I look behind me too, still ensconced in the protective curve of his body. “He’s not going to stop.”

I dare to look up in Ren’s face. His jaw is so tight there’s a bump protruding near his ear. His eyes are angry, and his body is rigid.

“You’re mad.” I make myself small, avoiding his eyes. Only to have my face tipped up.

“At him. Not at you. Never at you.” He drops his lips to my forehead, lingering there.

I breathe in deeply and exhale, relaxing in the safety he provides.

“Heath Giltenhouse, though… I’ll deal with him.”