Page 99 of Fierce-Baker

Maybe once, it would have.

No. There was no maybe about it.

She absolutely would have panicked.

But now? Too many people knew. Not just her parents and Baker’s family, but coworkers. Friends. Their worlds had started overlapping whether she’d planned for it or not.

She’d even told a few people at work she was seeing him. And the soft, almost surprised smile Baker had given her when she told him had been worth every ounce of vulnerability it took not to keep everything locked down.

“Of course it matters,” he said. “I can’t take it back, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t.” She leaned in, kissed him, then shifted, settling into his lap, her knees bracketing his hips like she belonged there. “Not even a little. You know how open I’ve been. And you’re meeting my parents this weekend, too.”

Something she hadn’t done in years. Not since James. Not since her parents had told her how much they liked her ex years ago and made her feel foolish for walking away from a man she’d always known she would’ve merely settled for.

What she had with Baker now told her she’d been right to wait.

That patience mattered.

That she hadn’t missed her chance at the life she wanted.

She’d just been waiting for the right person to walk into it.

And he had.

She could feel it in the way he held her, in the way his presence filled the space like it belonged. She was going to show him just how much he meant to her.

How deeply she was falling in love with him.

No. Not falling.

She’d already landed with her heart wide open, steady, waiting for him to land beside her.

Maybe tonight she’d finally find the courage to say it.

The words she hadn’t given to any man in years.

The words that could change everything.

But she wasn’t afraid of that either.

She couldn’t be fearful of something that she knew was going to be right.

She slid off his lap without breaking eye contact and reached for his hand.

“Come with me,” she said softly.

He followed down the short hall, into her room, with the door silently shutting, then locking.

Her bedroom was dim, the curtains half-drawn, the late-day light washing everything in gold hues. It felt intimate without trying.

She turned to face him, her hand still wrapped around his. For a moment, she just looked at him, really looked. The man who had slipped into her life quietly and then stayed. Who showed up. Who listened. Who steadied her without ever asking her to shrink away from who she was.

This mattered.Hemattered.

She pressed her forehead to his chest, breathing him in, grounding herself in the solid warmth of him. Then she lifted her head, palms flattening over his heart like she needed to feel it beating. Needed to know it was the same rhythm as hers.

“What’s going on, Tasha?” he asked, his voice low. As if he were whispering for fear of even hearing the words coming out of his mouth.