Page 98 of Playing With Danger

Sweet Dolly Parton, was he serious?

“Are you serious?”

Did Valentine turn on the heater? Was I sweating? I was born and raised in Georgia; it took a lot for me to break out in a sweat.

“How’d it feel last night falling asleep next to me? What about this morning—did you wake up happy?”

He knew I did. I loved falling asleep in his bed just as much as he did.

“Yes,” I muttered.

“Right. So did I. Can’t remember a morning since my mom and sister died I’ve woken up happy. Truly happy.”

Holy hell.

I was totally moving in with Valentine.

“I need to talk to Hayden.”

“You know he won’t care. Or he will, but the caring he’ll be doing is being happy for you. The dude adores you.”

I was so freaking happy Valentine understood my friendship with Hayden.

“He totally does. And the deal was, we moved in with each other so we could each save money for a down payment on a house. I know he’s saved enough, and I know he’s had the money for the last year but hasn’t moved out because he worries about me living alone.”

Suddenly Valentine looked over my shoulder. He never broke eye contact when we were in the middle of a conversation.

“Everything—”

“Didn’t think anything about it until you just said you’re saving up to buy a house. You got something in mind you want? A neighborhood? I don’t want to go as far as Savannah, traffic to work would be a bitch, but something within an hour of the station.”

An hour?

He was willing to make a crazy-long commute and move if I’d already been house hunting.

God, could this guy get any better?

“Your house is perfect with… some small changes,” I rushed the last three words.

“You don’t like my pad?” He chuckled.

“I do, it just needs…” God, how did I tell him he needed some color and personality infused into his surroundings?

“You, Sophie. It just needs you. Then you can chick the joint up and make it a home.”

Holy shit. We were doing this. I was going to move in with Valentine and the decision was made spur of the moment sitting in his Rover parked in front of his friend’s house. My mother would have a heart attack. She’d have a ready lecture about proper planning and other people’s perception and whatever other negative things she could come up with. Her nagging would be done out of concern for my wellbeing but not my happiness.

However, I was choosing happiness.

One week, one month, a year or three.

Valentine made me happy.

I was shooting my shot and hoping for the best.

“Okay.”

“You’re moving in?”

---