Page 113 of Fly Back to Me
“Do you cook at all?” I ask.
“Omelets. Steak. That’s about it.”
“Mm,” I moan, closing my eyes. “I can make a mean Swiss and spinach omelet with egg whites.”
“You’re more than welcome to take over my kitchen tomorrow morning.”
I scoff teasingly, eyeing him with feign offense. “Just like a man to expect his woman to cook for him.”
“No, it’s not like that,” he murmurs, linking his fingers between mine.
“Fair warning, I’m far from the perfect housewife. I grab takeout more than I cook, and I hold babies like footballs.”
“I uh … I’m notentirelysurprised by that,” he confesses.
My mouth drops open, and I jerk up in my seat. “What?! That’s terrible of you to be so judgmental!”
Cade’s crooked smile appears as he straightens. “Isn’t everyone judgmental?”
“Yes,” I affirm, “but no one actually admits what they think.Especially when it’s offensive.”
He leans toward me, reaching to cup my cheek in his hand. His earthy musk blends with the burning wood, the heat of the flames doing nothing to mellow the intensity of his touch. “Ah, I see. You’d rather salvage someone’s feelings than be honest.”
I angle my chin up in defense, but his thumb drags it down tauntingly. “You know what? I bet you’re lousy at babies too.” My eyes pop. “Hah! How does that feel?”
He smiles as he nudges his nose against mine. “It would take less than a minute for you to learn how to hold a baby. If all else fails, we’ll just need a stronger defense.”
We’ll.
The implication of his last sentence renders me speechless as I pull an inch away. His eyes sparkle from the fire pit, an everlasting promise woven into them.
My throat rolls as I lay a couple blush-tipped fingers on his prickly chin. “I do want babies,” I state, my voice hushed. “It’s just, sometimes I feel like I’m never going to be ready.” Then my head nods, my eyes skating over every crevice of his face to make sure he doesn’t miss a beat of my speech. “But I do want them.”
He nods, the crook of his mouth tipping higher. “That’s good to know,” he sighs, relief flooding his tone. “Really good.”
I grin, my shoulders bouncing before I even crack the joke. “I could just picture it. Little leather jackets and boots. Boy or girl, it wouldn’t matter.”
His thumb slides up to stroke my cheekbone as he cocks a brow. “Are you down?” he teases.
We’re joking through the subtext. Our guards are raised but gradually descending as we realize that maybe we will be parents someday.Together.
“As long as I can dress her in those huge, obnoxious bows. Mostly because they’re so fucking adorable, but partly because I know they’ll piss you off.”
He squints. “Why do you think they’d piss me off?”
“Everything pisses you off. You have like a five-second rebound rate.”
“I used to have many reasons to be,” he admits.
“And now?”
His lips lean dangerously close to mine. “I have every reason to smile.”
My fingers at his chin pull his mouth to me, our tongues crushing the tension we just stirred between us. As much as I’ve been determined to steal Cade’s affection, the entertainment of the adventure is fading.
Replaced by this foreign intensity.
This is real.
