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Carrie shook her head. “You’re injured. That’s not happening.”

Peter scowled. “You’re lucky I’m wearing this cast on my swinging arm or I would spank your ass.”

“You’re all talk, tough guy.” Carrie got a secret thrill out of sassing him just to see what he would do next.

“Get your ass over here,” Peter demanded.

When she was in front of him, he stood and pulled her closer to him with his good arm. Then he planted his mouth on hers.

“I need to step out for a little while,” Carrie said. “There are things at work that need my attention, and my apartment finally got deemed safe enough for me to go back into. I want to get a few things and bring them back here. Do you want me to have Gage or Olivia come sit with you?”

Peter glared at her. “Do I look invalid to you? My arm is banged up but I’m perfectly capable of being home alone. They even took the sling off. What are you worried about? I’ve got things to take care of anyway. You should just bring all your stuff and move in with me,” he said with a wink.

“OK.” Carrie grinned when his mouth opened and then closed again.

“You delight me, baby. Now get out of here. You’ve been hovering for days. I don’t want to see you for at least three hours.”

Carrie saluted just because she could before heading out the door.

When she reentered the apartment four hours later, delicious smells hit her nostrils. Setting her bags down in the entry, she jogged to the kitchen. Peter was at the stove stirring something.

“You’re hurt, you shouldn’t be cooking.”

Peter turned and smiled at her. “Welcome home, little one. Dinner will be ready in five minutes. I’ll need your help to get the plates down. Arm won’t quite go that high.”

Carrie crossed to the correct cabinet and pulled down two plates. When Peter filled them both with spaghetti, she carried them to the table.

“I resigned from the Secret Service today,” Peter said as she settled into her chair. Her eyes flew to him.

“Why would you do that?”

Peter shrugged. “I realized I was tired of the politics and that my goal of becoming director would mean more of it, not less. I think I’m going to open a private security company.”

“That’s a pretty big life decision, Peter. Are you sure you’re OK with this?”

Peter nodded. “I’m positive. It means I can set my own hours and spend more time with you. Maybe I’ll finally stop being such a stick in the mud,” he said with a wink.

As they ate, Carrie knew the decision she’d come to earlier in the day was the right one. She set her fork down and prepared to ask what she hoped was a life altering question.

“It’s appropriate that you made spaghetti, because I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh yeah?” Peter twirled his fork in the pile of pasta on his plate.

Carrie cleared her throat and ducked her head. “I want you to teach me how to bundle your rope.”

Peter’s fork clinked against his plate and his hand settled under her chin, lifting it so she met his eye.

“Carrie, baby.” His voice was husky with emotion. “Are you asking me to collar you?”

Carrie nodded as she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “Yes, Sir,” she murmured.

Peter tossed his head back and laughed, and for a moment Carrie felt her heart sink. Was he turning her down? Then he stood and said, “You really know how to steal my thunder, don’t you baby?”

Carrie looked at him, puzzled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He crossed to his pantry and opened it. When he returned, he held a paper sack from a nearby grocery store in his hand. “This is for you.”

With a wrinkled forehead, she peeked into the bag. Reaching in, she pulled out a box of Red Bull and stared at it. Rotating it in her hand, she felt something on the side. When she looked, her mouth fell open and she looked up at him with glistening eyes. On the side of the box a typed message had been taped.

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