Page 124 of A Better Place

“Even He’s not gonna get you out of this one, beautiful.”

“Well, what do you suggest? You want me to drive a tank?”

I grin at her because, if that’s what it will take to keep her safe, I’m okay with it.

Her jaw drops. “You can’t be serious!”

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know… seems like that would be the best vehicle to keep you safe.”

“Right. Because that wouldn’t look ridiculous. I don’t know if it’s lost on you, but I’m not as big as you,” she says.

I waggle my eyebrows at her and reach over, pulling her to me by her waist. “Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed.”

She keeps talking, ignoring me completely. “I can’t handle a big vehicle. And as much as it pains me to admit, I’m not entirely a great driver.” She stretches her mouth out in an eeek face, causing me to laugh.

“All the more reason for us to go car shopping tomorrow.”

“Us?”

“What did I tell you? You’re with me, yeah?”

“What time tomorrow?”

“Good girl.”

She shivers, and I have a feeling it’s not from the temperature outside, but I don’t say anything.

“Let’s get you inside. I promised my girl a special meal, and I plan to wow her.”

“Oh! Lucky girl.”

“Nah, that would be me. I’m the one who’s lucky.”

She sighs contentedly, which has my heart pounding with promise. I can only pray I am always able to give her that. Comfort. Security. Love.

As soon as we walk into my apartment, Carly doesn’t hesitate in removing her jacket and hanging it on the hook by the wall. She sets her large handbag on the floor below it, removes her shoes, and makes her way inside. I love that she feels comfortable enough in my space to make herself at home, without me having to prompt her to do so. Many times I’ve been to her house, and I’ve always felt at home. I’m beginning to think it’s just her that makes me comfortable, rather than the location. Because wherever she is, that’s where I feel most at ease. And when the four of us are together, when our families blend, it doesn’t feel forced. It feels natural, relaxed, right.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“It’s almost ready. Wine? Margarita, perhaps?” I tease.

“Ha, ha, jokester. Just iced tea, if you have it.”

“Of course,” I say and grab the pitcher of tea from the fridge before pouring her some into a mason jar and handing it over.

“You’re so Southern at heart.” She giggles.

“It’s endearing, right?”

“Oh yeah, babe. Totally.” She smiles and takes a sip. “It smells delicious in here. What are we having?”

“Well, we’ve cooked together plenty, but it always seems like I’m trying recipes out on you for the restaurant. So tonight, no taste testing. I made your favorite.”

“You mean to say you’re not having my favorite on your menu?” she fake-pouts.

I laugh. “Actually, no.”

She gasps, but I continue.

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