My Killer Vacation

“Oh.” I stare at his perfect, one-of-a-kind mouth, wondering how I can get a little more action out of it. Without committing to anything, of course. This whole situation is ludicrous. “Well, I guess we can discuss this in Connecticut and you can leave from there.”

“We can discuss whatever you want. But I’m not leaving.”

How can I still want to climb onto his lap when he’s being so obstinate? “Have you been this stubborn the whole time?”

“Yes. Just not about the right things.”

“What does that mean?” I murmur, heart fluttering. Stop fluttering. Please.

“It means, I should have been less damn stubborn when pushing away the best thing that ever happened to me.” His voice resonates with sincerity and regret. “And more stubborn about locking her down.”

“I’m n-not property to be locked down.”

“I am. I’m your property.” His lips skim my jawline. “Inside and out.”

“Huhhh,” I whimper, embarrassingly, gravitating closer despite my best intentions, biting my lip to trap another second humiliating sound when my breasts flatten against his hard chest. “I appreciate all of this. You…saying things. Nice things.” Oh my God. Speak coherently. You’re a teacher. “I’m just worried you’re jumping into this relationship too fast and that you’ll regret being so hasty down the road.”

I’m arrested by his sudden grin. “You called it a relationship.”

“Don’t focus on that part.”

“I’m laser focused on it, Taylor.” His grin fades into a serious expression. “We experienced more in five days than most people experience in a year together. We got to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses and fears and dreams. Fast. And I’m drawn to every single piece of you. Everything that makes you Taylor. By the grace of God, you’re drawn to me, too, or you wouldn’t be halfway into my lap right now in a McDonald’s parking lot. Wave at the nice family, sweetheart.”

With a wince, I turn to find a Happy Meal toting family of five hustling to their station wagon through the parking lot. The mother is covering her youngest child’s eyes and shaking her head at me. “There’s a time and a place, folks,” she calls.

“Sorry!” I put several inches of space in between me and Myles, smoothing the new wrinkles from my dress while he chuckles. “As I was saying…” Was I saying something?

Myles’s mouth is still twitching, so much affection in his eyes that I feel another lip tremble coming on. “I’m coming over, Taylor. To your place.” He rakes a set of fingers through his hair. “Maybe right now a relationship sounds crazy to you. Maybe you need to see me there to believe it’s happening. We’re happening.”

“You think if I see you in my kitchen…I’ll be more inclined to believe this could work.”

“It’s a start.”

“Maybe you’re just trying to get me into bed.”

He laughs without humor. “I need you in bed so bad, I could barely zip up this morning.”

“Wow.” Jude comes to a stop beside me, shaking my ice coffee until I reach for it. “Really feels like I’ve been an intimate part of this process. About ready to bow out, though.”

Face flaming, I fumble with my free hand for the driver’s side door handle. “I guess I’ll see you in Connecticut, then.”

“Damn right you will,” Myles says, putting his helmet back on.

Jude waves his coffee. “Please drop me off first.”





It’s already working.

Just watching Myles park in one of the guest spots in my complex makes everything between us feel real. He’s here. He’s not a figment of my imagination. Of course, just like anywhere else Myles goes, he dwarfs everything around him. People in the lot. Even the cars seem tiny in comparison. But he doesn’t seem to be noticing anything but me. He crosses the lot in my direction, duffel bag thrown over one ox-like shoulder, determination hardening every line of his body—and I can already feel myself caving. We aren’t even inside yet.

“So…” I start to lift my suitcase out of the trunk, but he does it for me. With one finger. Is that supposed to impress me? Because it does. “Thank you. So…” I wave my car keys in the direction of the guest lot. “That’s where you would park.”

“Would.”

“Uh-huh.” I walk ahead of him, unlock the gate and take one flight of stairs up to my apartment. And I only drop my keys twice because of the ferocious way he’s looking at my butt. I also drop them to delay the moment this colossal bounty hunter enters my boho chic living space with his size thirteen steel-toed boots and remembers we’re nothing alike. And leaves. Back to his nomadic, commitment-free life.

“You need some help unlocking the door, Taylor?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m cold.”

He’s kind not to point out that it’s July and eighty degrees. Finally, I get the door open and he follows me inside, stepping in so I can close the door behind him. There is enough sunlight that I don’t need to turn on any lamps, so I fuss with the thermostat, instead, getting the air flowing. “Taylor.”

“Yes?”

“Look at me.” I do what he asks, watching him set down my suitcase, followed by his duffel bag. Slowly. “This is me inside your door.”

My stupid heart crawls up into my throat. All I can do is nod.

He toes off his boots. Crosses the room to me and takes my hand, leading me into the kitchen. “This is me at your refrigerator.” He raps his knuckles on the appliance and smirks at me. “I’ll be here a lot.” My laughter is winded. He leans down, studies my face closely, then kisses the sound off my mouth very thoroughly. “I’ll cook for you.”

“When you’re here?”

“What do you mean?” he asks patiently, facing me.

Almost like he wants me to ask questions.

“I mean…you’d be on the road a lot,” I say, wetting my lips. “Doing jobs. Didn’t you say they take weeks sometimes? Therefore, you would cook on the infrequent occasions that you are here.”

He hums in his throat. “I see your point. Guess bounty hunting is out.”

I must have misheard him. “Sorry, what?”

“I guess I’m done bounty hunting,” he says, brushing back my hair. “I’m not spending weeks at a time away from you, Taylor. No fucking way. I want to be here. With you.”