Page 29

Chapter 29

Juliette

I can do this. I can go out there and act fine. “F. I. N. E.” I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I’m spelling out words, which is the exact opposite of fine. And I needed to sit before I fell over.

I went to the toilet, thankfully remembered to close the lid, and then sat just as Constantine called out, “You okay?”

Elbows digging into my legs, I rested my chin in one hand and slowly looked up at him. “Is my head still attached to my body because it no longer feels that way?”

“I can confirm that it’s thankfully attached.” His handsome smile was like a B6 shot, giving me new life. I even managed to sit upright and set my back against the wall.

The bathroom was also decorated with a beachy theme, which was apropos because while I knew we weren’t on a boat at sea, my head said otherwise. Maybe I was even swaying side to side. “The alcohol caught up with me. Can you tell?”

“Just a little bit.”

“This is part two of what drinking does to me.”

He folded his strong arms and leaned into the interior frame, studying me. “What’s part one?”

“You had a front-row seat not too long ago.” I winked, but it probably came across as me trying to blink a speck of dust free from my eye. Uber attractive.

His smile stretched. “Tell me anyway.”

“Mm.” I managed to wiggle three fingers in the air without toppling over. “The triple L’s.” I lowered one finger while noting, “Liquid truth serum.” Another finger. “Lust.” One more finger. “Lightheaded.”

“Ah, I see.” He drew his thumb along the line of his lips, lips I’d kill to kiss. “Are you sure we’re not still in part-one territory?”

A soft chuckle rolled free along with another hiccup. “Shoot, make that four. Laugh.” I tried to stand, and the room spun, but before I could fall, he was there for the save, helping me back down to my embarrassing throne of a closed toilet seat.

He knelt in front of me, keeping his hands under my armpits. Was he worried I’d fall and knock my head against the claw-foot tub and get amnesia? Huh, that would suck. Finally finding him and then not remembering him might be worse than never finding him at all.

“Maybe you’re right,” I admitted, “and part two is just an exasperated version of it.”

“You can’t be that bad to use a word like that.” He winked, and yeah, the man was much better at that voluntary eye muscle movement than I was.

“Speaking of muscles and movement . . .”

He closed one eye for a brief moment as if not following.

Right, that’d been in my head. “Shoot. I don’t know where I was going with that thought.”

“Funny enough, neither do I.” He chanced moving one hand from under my arm to my face. “Please never drink when I’m not around. Or, at the least, your brother, dad, or Colin. You know, someone who will always have your six.”

“One time at . . . not band camp”—I giggled, unsure if the American Pie joke was lost on him or not, but I’d already moved on to greener (drunker) pastures—“but a bar.” I blinked a few times, trying to remember what we were talking about. “A bar, yes, I was at a bar with Easton and his Air Force friends, and my brother had to punch one of his buddies because he was . . .”

“He was what?” His eyes went wide, and his hand stopped caressing my cheek.

“Colin was home with my dad, the designated babysitter, so I went out. For like the first time in forever, and well, Easton’s friend hit on me, proposing a one-night stand before he deployed.” I hiccuped. “And my brother intervened before I could tell him I wasn’t that girl. I mean, I was with you, but?—”

“Juliette?” he cut off my tipsy (drunk) babbling.

“Yeah?”

“You know I’ve killed people.”

Another unattractive hiccup. “Mm-hmm.”

“Would you like me to kill him?” he asked in a serious tone.

“No, of course not.” I tipped my head to the left, then the right, feeling like a dog staring at their human with “give me food, please” eyes.

“Then maybe don’t mention any man from your past to me.”

His hand moved up into my hair, gently threading through the locks as if he hadn’t just told me he’d kill anyone who even so much as wanted to touch me.

“Your brother. I think I like him,” he said so adorably and matter-of-factly.

“He supports you. Us.” I circled my finger between us. “You being in my life. He said you’d protect us.”

He stopped stroking my hair. “He did?” His forehead tightened.

I confirmed with a small, “Yes,” and his expression relaxed. “Will your family like me?”

“Of course. No doubt in my mind.”

Hmm. Good. “How are you feeling, by the way?” I poked his hard chest. “Sober-y or still tipsy?”

He grunted in mock disapproval. “I don’t get tipsy.”

“Right, that does not sound manly at all, and you’re very much aaalllll man. But are you less-ish of whatever it was you were?”

“I’m less-ish,” he said with a nod, his eyes tight on my mouth, and I found myself reaching out to touch his lips.

I swiped the pad of my thumb along the seam of his mouth. “You know, your smile destroyed me, too. I mean that in a good way. Kind of, sort of. You did ruin all men for me.”

A boyish grin crossed his lips as I pulled my finger away. “You already know you ruined all women for me.”

“You mentioned that, but I enjoyed hearing it again.” My words were a little breathy, and I doubted it was from the alcohol. “I should be sorry about that. And I mean, I am, because it caused you pain, but?—”

“The pain was worth the wait.” He brushed his knuckles along my cheekbone. “It was worth every minute to not have married the wrong person so I can be in front of the right one now.”

His words nearly sobered me up, and I suppressed a fifth L from trying to break through. Liquid tears. “You’re this big, tough guy with an intimidating, steely exterior but with the softest insides. You know that, right?”

His brows pinched. “For you, I’ll be whoever you need me to be.” He pushed up to his feet and offered me his hand to stand.

I accepted his sweet gesture and managed to stand without banking hard to the right or left.

“Maybe change out of those jeans first so you’re comfortable while I get our food?” he suggested after he’d helped me to the bed as if we hadn’t just had a fairly romantic and sweet conversation while I’d been on a toilet seat. “What do you want to wear?” He set my suitcase at the edge of the bed and unzipped it.

“Whatever you find that looks cozy.” I hugged my knees to my chest, feeling twenty years younger as this man took care of me instead of taking advantage of me.

He rummaged through my bag, said something under his breath when he stumbled upon a red, lacy bra, then quickly moved on. He picked out a long-sleeved pink cotton top and cracked a smile before reading out loud the expression printed on it: “Yes, I’m a nurse. No, I don’t want to look at it.”

“It happens more often than you can imagine.” I took the pajamas from him, returning his smile as he stepped off to the side of the bed.

“I have a lot to learn about you, don’t I?” His gaze slowly drifted over my body. “And I want to know everything. All of it.”

“Not because you have to, but because you want to,” I said firmly, needing the reminder one more time—not for him, but for myself. “Not because of obligation.”

“If it were anyone else this happened with, then yes, I’d feel a sense of obligation.” He dragged his eyes up to my face. “If it were anyone else, I’d think being together would be the right and responsible thing to do.”

“Same,” I admitted. “But I’m not just anyone to you, the way you’re not just anyone to me.”

“You’re not just anyone to me, no.”

I loosened my hold of the PJs. “Is this crazy? Three hours seventeen years ago.”

I knew it was all I needed to say if he was on the same page as me.

He bent forward and gently took hold of my chin. “If it was anyone else,” he echoed back with conviction.

Liquid truth serum, not liquid lies.

A deep exhalation fell from his mouth before he released me to stand tall. “I’ll get the food. Stay put. Don’t fall off the bed while you change, please. I’d help you, but we both know how bad of an idea it’d be for me to remove your clothes.”

“Horrible idea.” That devil of an L, lust, sent my eyes to his crotch, and I couldn’t help but clock his reaction in his jeans as a response to my gaze.

“On that note,” he said with an adorable fake cough, “I’ll reheat our food and be back soon.” He started for the door, only to turn back toward me again. “My family is coming on Monday to meet you both. I forgot to tell you.”

We really were moving fast, weren’t we? Even if the meet and greet was for Colin’s sake, I still felt the weight of pressure from the meet-the-parents moment, too. “I can’t wait.”

He nodded and started to go, only to stop. He parked a palm on the doorframe and glanced back at me. “Juliette?”

“Yeah?” I mouthed.

“Tomorrow, I plan to tell you everything.”

“Everything, everything?”

He nodded. “I can’t wait any longer. I need you to know the truth as soon as possible. I’d tell you now if you were sober.”

“You would? Why?” I clutched the pajamas to my chest, my nerves settling back in.

The side of his lip lifted. “Because I need you to know everything about me before we do what we’re both dying to.”

“And what’s that?” I knew. Of course I knew, but I wanted to hear him say it.

A sexy smirk slipped across his lips before he rasped, “You know exactly what.”