Page 95 of Hot Pursuit
He jolted when Jo spoke and snapped his head around to face her, a grin dancing across his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just out for an evening stroll on a moonlit beach with my girlfriend. Very romantic.”
Jo arched a brow and stepped closer. “Girlfriend, huh?”
“We rule-followers like the use of a label every now and again, to keep things organized.” Even with crutches, Nate was quick. He darted his hand out, grabbing the edge of her shirt, and tugged. Jo fell against his chest, no other place in the world she’d rather be. “You have a problem with that?”
Though she’d normally retort, Jo melted into his words and his embrace, all the fight and all the bravado gone from her body in one fell swoop. “No.”
Nate’s features softened, humor turning to empathy in an instant. He lifted his hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, then gently brushed his fingers over her cheeks, wiping the tears away. Words danced in the depths of his eyes.I’m sorry. What can I do? How can I help? Are you okay? Will you be okay? I want to take your pain away.But he didn’t say any of it, because he knew her, and he knew she didn’t want to hear it. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and murmured a single word. The perfect one.
“Home?”
Jo leaned back and found his eyes. “Home.”
They made their way to the car, and Nate eased into the driver’s seat. Jo didn’t bother to protest. The last time she’d tried to point out that someone recovering from a bullet to the calf might not be the ideal driver, she’d gotten a gruff,I got shot in my left leg. I only need the right one to drive. And to be honest, all she wanted to do now was hold his hand and zone out until they got home.
Home.
What an odd concept. Two weeks ago, the only home she’d known for the past ten years had been blown to smithereens. And now, only fourteen days later, another spot had already claimed the title. But that was something loss had taught her—home wasn’t a place, not really. It was a person. Home had once been a farmhouse in the countryside, until the day her mother’s laughter disappeared and took all sense of belonging with it. Then home had become an isolated island in the middle of the sea. But without her father’s presence, that house would never have felt the same. And now, home was a small one-bedroom apartment in the middle of Washington, DC, a bachelor pad slowly seeing signs of a woman’s touch. But really, home was being wrapped in Nate’s arms, safe and loved and warm. That was all she wanted as they parked and made their way to the front door. To be surrounded by Nate. Loved by him. To escape for a little bit beneath his touch. In her mind, they were already in bed, tangled in the sheets, finding solace in each other’s—
“What the hell?”
Jo blinked, dispelling the image as Nate’s blurted words brought her back to reality. “Wha— Oh.”
She followed him through the front door and winced, taking in the utter disaster that was the apartment. Cardboard boxes and bits of Styrofoam were scattered across the living room floor. Bags of flour and sugar and chocolate chips sat open on the kitchen counters. Butter had melted into a puddle, dripping over the edge and onto the ceramic tiles. Cooling racks were stacked two feet high on the dining room table, overflowing with baked goods.
“The, um, KitchenAid I ordered arrived today…” Jo trailed off when she realized Nate wasn’t listening but was instead frozen in horror, eyes wide, mouth open, steam practically coming out of his ears.Damage control. ASAP. “I meant to clean it,” Jo started again. Nate still didn’t move. She bit her lip and lifted one of her feet, dragging the tips of her toes back and forth across the wooden boards. “But I was on a roll, creative-wise I mean. And I was so nervous about tonight, about how I would feel, I couldn’t stop. And then you called to say you were out front. And I just grabbed the urn and left and, well, completely forgot to warn you…” Jo swallowed. Was he having a heart attack? A panic attack? A— “Nate?”
Jo put a hand to his arm.
As soon as she touched him, he sucked a long, measured breath through his lips, then held it for a few moments before releasing it just as steadily, just as controlled. He gradually shifted his head, turning it toward her in slow motion.
“Jo.”
An apologetic smile rose on her lips.Please find me adorable and cute.“I made coopies, your favorite. The brownie ones are brand new. They’re just over there, on the end of the table. Or chocolate chip. A classic. You can’t go wrong with chocolate chip. Or, um, oatmeal raisin? Though, those still need a little work. Ooh! The birthday cake ones are delicious.”
“Jo.” He drew the O out into a sentence all its own.
“I know…”
He turned back toward the mess. “Look at this place.”
“I’m sorry.”
Panic sizzled beneath her skin. All she’d wanted tonight was to lose herself in Nate’s arms, to forget the hurt for a little while, to forget it all—and dammit, she would!
Jo did the only thing she could think of.
She stripped.
While Nate was busy darting his gaze around every splotch of dough on the counter, Jo yanked off her T-shirt and pulled down her shorts, then unclipped her bra and stepped out of her panties. She kicked her flip-flops into the center of the kitchen—hell, at this point, it couldn’t be any messier—and said, “Nate.”
“Jo—”
“I’m naked.”
He spun so fast she was worried he might get whiplash, nothing but empty air spilling from his lips.
“I’m naked.”
