“I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” Claire said, pulling me to my feet. She slapped my backside. “Now go kiss and make up with your husband who is more than likely kicking himself right now.”
I walked to the door, hesitated, and then finally pulled it open. Jared stood in the hallway, his hands in his pockets.
I crossed my arms. “You look like you lost your best friend.”
“Did I?” he asked, miserable.
My shoulders fell.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I swear that’s everything. You know everything else.”
“I think I’ve heard that before,” I said, walking to him until I was just inches away.
Jared touched each side of my stomach and looked down, his eyes dark with worry and guilt. I wrapped my arms around his neck and touched my cheek to his. We stood silently for a long while in that embrace. Holding him felt just as good if not better than the first time. The electricity was still there, and I had the same desperate need to be closer to him. He smelled just as amazing, and his skin was still as soft. Too many months had passed since we took a moment to ourselves just to hold each other. I tried to be present in that moment and be aware of everything possible. We would leave in eight days, facing the fight of our lives. I didn’t know when this moment would happen again.
His hand slipped to my lower back, and he pulled me closer. I lifted my chin, and his lips touched mine. I dug my fingers into the skin of his arms, and then deeper into the muscle. His tongue slipped into my mouth, but then he pulled away.
“Ahem,” Ryan said.
I turned to see the source of the interruption standing next to Claire at the top of the stairs.
“Figures,” Jared grumbled.
We returned downstairs together, joining Bex and Lillian in the foyer. I hugged my mother-in-law goodbye, smiling when her enthusiastic hug became a bit too tight.
“I love you,” she said, kissing my hair. She looked to Jared. “Be good to each other.” Jared nodded, and she waved goodbye.
I walked into the dining room, and Jared, Claire, and Ryan followed.
Ryan and Claire began clearing the table. Ryan smiled and elbowed her. “Your mom loves me.”
“She loves everyone,” Claire sneered. “You’re not special.”
“You don’t love everyone. I’d say that makes me pretty special…since you do.”
Claire glanced at Jared and me, clearly embarrassed. “You wish!”
“Just say it,” Ryan said.
“Stop telling me what to do,” Claire snapped back.
He crossed his arms. “It’s because I’m human, isn’t it?”
Claire’s eyes narrowed. “Seriously? It is possible that I just don’t like you.”
“Me?” Ryan said, pointing to his chest. “Nah,” he said, dismissing her suggestion. “You’re a strong woman. I get it. Not many can handle it that their girl could kick their ass. Even fewer soldiers, and even fewer Special Forces guys. But I get it, and I can keep up with you more than anyone else could. I’ve had training…and we’ve pretty much been told by the Creator of the Universe that we have to spend all of our time together. How much proof do you need?”
Claire turned and swiped her leg under Ryan’s feet, throwing him to the ground, flat on his back. “First of all, you can’t keep up with me. Second of all—”
Ryan kicked forward, and then leapt to his feet. Claire crouched in a defensive position. Ryan smiled at her reaction. “I can keep up with you.”
“I doubt that.”
“Try me. If I can’t, I’ll leave you alone.”
Claire looked at Ryan from under her brow. Her ice-blue eyes turned murderous, but under them was a mischievous smile.
I frowned. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Too late now,” Claire said.
She bent her knee and shoved her boot into Ryan’s stomach. He flew across the room and flattened against the wall, falling to the ground. He stumbled to his feet and sucked in a few times, the air knocked out of him.
I cringed. “At least she’s not wearing stilettos.”
Ryan shot an annoyed look my way, and then coughed a few times. He stood on wobbly knees and lifted his hands, palm-out to Claire. “You should know by now that I don’t give up.”
Claire grinned with devilish intent. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Not as much as me,” Jared said. I glared at him, and he shrugged. “What?”
Claire attacked, and Ryan turned. With a different adversary, he would have turned at the precise time to avoid a landed punch, but Claire was faster than the supernaturally fast—and she preferred kicking.
Claire spun around, her heel making contact with Ryan’s backside. He was shoved forward a few steps, and then turned and punched. His hand met the drywall, and it cracked in several pieces around his fist.
“He better know how to fix that,” I grumbled.