Page 107 of Bottles & Blades

I kiss away her tired protest then carry her to my bed, tuck her close, draw the blankets up over us, and hold her tight as we both find sleep.

As I find peace.

I don’t knowexactly when I become aware of my bed being empty, the mattress and pillow beside me cool to the touch.

But I do realize it eventually, coming awake and rolling to my side, eyes searching the bright room for clues to where my fucking woman might have gone—and done it for long enough that the mattress and the pillow beside me have grown cold.

Sighing, I push up to sitting, toss the blankets back.

It’s much later than I would normally sleep, but considering all that’s been happening lately, I figure I’m due.

The question is why the woman who should be resting next to me, isn’t.

A sliver of worry slides through my stomach.

Maybe shewaspissed last night.

Maybe she’s gone.

Maybe—

I sniff. Freeze.

There’s the smell of something delicious in the air—sweet and salty and…

I’m moving out the door before I even process it, tramping down the stairs, striding through the hall, and stepping into the kitchen.

Then going still.

She’s barefoot, wearing my tee, the hem hitting her right at mid-thigh.

And she’s humming softly to a pop song as she spoons batter onto the griddle.

It happens—right then and there, in an instant, between one heartbeat and the next.

I fall.

Or maybe it’s less fall and moreknowingthat I’ve slipped that final inch into love with Tiff Hernandez.

“Oh!”

I smile as she rotates toward me and jumps in surprise, her hand pressing to her chest.

“Baby,” I murmur.

Pink cheeks. “What?”

“Why aren’t you in bed beside me?”

“I wasn’t tired, and we missed dinner last night. I figured you’d be hungry.”

I’m hungry, just not only for food.

“You didn’t want to wake me?”

A shrug, those pink cheeks getting pinker, and fuck, how is she possibly this sweet. “You needed your rest.” She nibbles at her bottom lip. “I hope that’s okay.”

“No,” I mutter, “it’s not.”