Page 108 of Tenderfoot

“Or we could just shift this to your place.”

This was a good suggestion.

But so far, none of his neighbors had come to his door to ask for a cup of sugar, to borrow a screwdriver, or request he help them solve a crime.

“It might be quieter here.”

His lips were quirking as he selected another donut (a bear claw this time, how could this man eat like this and have that body?), saying, “Whatever you want, Lolita.”

While I sipped coffee, I let him demolish his bear claw.

Once he’d washed it back with a swig of joe, I swung into action, doing this actually swinging in, straddling his lap, my knees in the sofa on either side of him.

He tipped his head back and rested his free hand on my hip.

“Babe,” he murmured.

I took that opportunity to do what I’d wanted to do since I first saw him.

I smoothed a finger over his perfect dark eyebrow.

“Harlow,” he whispered.

I ignored him, watching my hand move, then I switched to the other brow.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and leaned forward to set his coffee cup on the table.

He then sat back and wrapped both arms around me.

I looked into his eyes and requested quietly, “Can I buy you a throw blanket?”

“A what?”

“A throw blanket. A little blanket that’s comfy and snuggly, but attractive, so you can leave it out all the time by throwing it over the side of the couch.”

His brows knit. “Were you cold when you were writing in your book?”

But of course, he would think of me.

“No, but a throw blanket makes a house a home.”

Instantly after I spoke my words, he groaned, slouched deeper on the couch and put pressure on my back so I was plastered to him.

“We’ll go shopping,” he said throatily.

“You shop?”

“I’ll shop with you.”

He’d shop with me.

Official!

He was perfect.

Since this seemed to be going so well, I kept at it.

“I’ve seen this great lamp that would go fab over your couch.”

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