Page 135 of Sweet Hate
“Thank you. That is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
I give him another kiss for good measure before sitting back down and excitedly grabbing the books. Alongside the serial killer book, he’s picked up a sports romance with a pink cover and a firefighter romance. I laugh when I see that little gem and he honest to God blushes a little more.
“I hope you like ‘em. TV controls are beside you. Don’t feel like you have to read,” he mumbles before turning back toward the kitchen.
Before I even open the first book, he’s back, this time to drape a fluffy blanket over my legs. Not just any blanket, though—this one is covered in pink iridescent sequins. My eyes well with tears at the gesture. There is no way this guy, with his modern manly apartment full of dark wood and tan leather, just had this lying around. He saw this at my place and went out and bought the same one.
I grab his shirt and tug him down, sinking my head back into the soft leather to give him another kiss, Spider-Man style, as he leans over the back of the couch.
“Thank you, Axel. This is all so amazing.”
“I just want you to feel comfortable here. I’ll be in the kitchen. Holler if you need anything.”
Crap. How am I supposed to not fall in love with this man?
I’m pretty sure I’m halfway there already.
45
AXEL
Islide the lasagna into the oven and lean against the wall, which puts Haven in my line of sight through the kitchen doorway.
Her pink topknot bobs as she reads snuggled under her sparkly pink blanket.
The strange looks I got buying that today were worth it just to see it wrapped around her, that’s for damn sure. The thank you kiss that followed still has my lips burning.
Haven’s the first woman in my apartment. Well, apart from my mother. But I don’t feel like she counts.
I’ve never wanted to bring anyone here. The thought of someone entering my inner sanctum had me breaking out in hives. I can’t think of anything worse than some woman poking around my place.
I thought that was just me. Eternal bachelor. No one sees inside the bat cave.
But apparently, that’s not quite the case. Becauseshe’shere.
It should bother me that she is. That her coffee cup is sitting beside her on the seat instead of on the designated concrete coaster. Or that my vintage tan leather couch now hasa fluffy sparkly blanket draped over it that I’m pretty sure you can spot from space. But not only does it not bother me, but I went out of my way to make it happen.
I want her here.
I want to smell her sweet caramel scent as soon as I walk through the door every day.
I want her face to be the last I see every night and the first I see every morning.
She’s the exception to my rule.
I can’t stay away anymore. A second chance with her has me taking my whole life plan and throwing it in the trash, ready to write a new one that revolves around her.
I finished working at the firehouse and headed straight into town to hunt down that damn blanket and make a total ass of myself at the local bookstore. The ladies working there took great pleasure in telling me all about the books they recommended inexplicitdetail. Although, it’s apparently frowned upon to refer to them aslady porn books,even thoughbook boyfriends do it better, and the ones I selected come highly recommended on…Tickbook? Booktick? Tockbook? Whatever the hell it was didn’t mean shit all to me, but they are pink.
And she loves pink.
I didn’t miss the surreptitious looks they were giving each other as they bagged them up, so I’m sure the whole town knows that the local lieutenant is picking up tips from firefighter romance novels.
That’s some bullshit.
In hindsight, I probably should have left that one behind, but if that dude gets a happy ending—not that kind of happy ending, you dirty fucker—maybe it'll plant a few seeds in her pretty little head about us. I’ll take all the help I can get at this point.
I drag my ass away from the wall and busy myself prepping the garlic bread instead of staring at the back of her head like acreeper. Even the thought of garlic breath doesn’t deter me. If Beckett could see me now, he would shit a brick.
