Page 63 of Holiday Hostage
It hit the counter with a solid thud, and she eyed it with an arched brow before spooning a healthy dollop into each of the pans.
I reached around her to turn the stove eyes on, using the motion as an excuse to cradle her hips and pull her against me.
The homey setup of all four of us in the kitchen together put a new meaning to the family dynamic we’d created over the years.
Payton completed us.
I worked the words out of my mouth, stuffing them down and out of the way.
I couldn’t tell her something like that.
What I’d said in the ice shack was one thing.
Admitting to heartfelt feelings…nope.
“Not always.” A dry feeling in my throat choked me, and I cleared it twice before finding my voice. “We’re family, so most times we end up pushing each other around and arguing more than we do cooking.”
“Like brothers.” Her nose crinkled when she smiled, and tiny lines fanned out from the edges of her eyes.
I loved that smile.
I loved everything about her, but that smile was special.
It was her heart on full display, her love and her joy shining bright for us to see.
“That’s what we are,” Reed spoke up from the sink where he’d unpacked the steaks.
Tarron stepped out of the pantry, his arms loaded with canned goods. “Fight with each other. Die for each other. They’re pretty much the same to us.”
They’d fought for me and given up their careers for me. That was why I’d worked so hard to ensure our venture into the private sector was a success.
They deserved it after all they’d given up for me.
I grabbed one of the pans and swirled the melting tallow around. “Few more minutes, Reed, then you can put the steaks on.”
“Hey, steaks were your idea. You’re babysitting them.” Reed washed his hands and dried them as he backtracked to the counter and slid onto a stool.
He crossed his arms on the butcher block counter and waited to see what I’d do.
I ignored him and concentrated on placing the steaks in the pans.
He eventually stood and found something to do, the four of us working with that same seamless connection we’d found in the bedroom.
Tarron whistled while he worked, a habit I’d found obnoxious when we first started working together. Not anymore.
My fingers shook when I tried to flip one of the steaks.
Payton took the spatula from me and expertly maneuvered the steak around the pan. “Is that the nerve damage Tarron mentioned?”
I scowled at Tarron, feeling slightly betrayed that he’d revealed my weakness.
“Don’t.” Payton grabbed my face in her hands and pulled me around until I looked at her. “I don’t like that look. I might not know you very well, but that look says you’re mad at Tarron. I can only guess why. If it’s because you feel ashamed that you have nerve damage–which you can’t control and are lucky to have because it means you’re alive–then you don’t need to worry about that. You’re brave and loyal and one of the hottest men on the planet. You have everything going for you. A little tremble in your hands is nothing.”
“That little tremble took away my career.” I tried to find my anger, but she’d effectively squashed it into oblivion.
For years, all I’d ever wanted was to ascend the ranks in the Rangers, then spend my remaining years building up teams like ours.
But then I never would have met Payton, and I couldn’t be too upset at how that was working out.
