Page 39 of All At Once
“Yes.” Smoothing her ruffled hair, Tick chuckled. Over her head, he caught Caitlin’s eye, and she smiled at him, the moment warming him all the way through. She was right — he’d lost himself for a while, but he didn’t have to stay lost.
And she’d already begun helping him find his way home.
“Falconetti.” He rapped a knuckle against her office door, unsurprised when she didn’t look up from the folder spread over her desk. “Take a break from that and let me buy you lunch.”
“I . . .” Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she scratched a note on the topmost report. “ . . . brought lunch with me.”
“Yeah, I know. It can wait in the fridge until I’m in Biloxi tomorrow.” He leaned a shoulder on the doorjamb. “I need you to support my building a habit of renewed communication.”
She stilled, and he waited until she lifted her gaze to his.
Holding that green gaze, he spread his hands.
Muttering something that sounded like reasonable jackass, she laid her pen aside and rose, adjusting the neckline of her blouse. He’d seen that small movement hundreds of times, and today it kicked below his breastbone.
Hell, he’d missed her. He’d been right here with her, living and working with her, sleeping in the same bed and even making love with her, but he’d cut himself off from his best friend, hadn’t realized until now how much he’d missed that.
He dropped his gaze to her abdomen. “I’m excited about this baby.”
“Of course you are.” He glimpsed her smile as she brushed by him. “You like children, and you’re an amazing father.”
“Hey, I was down with having a third child when we decided two was enough.”
She slanted a look at him from beneath her lashes as they walked toward the elevator. “Because you don't have to be pregnant, give birth or nurse for a year.”
“Hey.” He tapped his chest, unable to resist a grin. He loved she was a smartass, and yeah, that had been in short supply the past few weeks, too. Having it sparkle between them now made him feel secure. “I pull my weight in other ways.”
“Of course you do.” She pushed the call button, that husky murmur, full of irony and affection, wrapping around him. Lips pursed, he glanced down at her, the careful way she didn’t look at him.
Oh, she wasn’t saying it, but a smartass comment lay behind that smooth expression, too.
“Don’t be mean to me.” The doors whooshed open, and he laid a hand across the track, ushering her ahead of him. She selected the lobby, and the two of them alone in the car, he leaned against the wall next to her, hands wrapped around the wooden rail. “How do you feel about it?”
“Mmm.” She mirrored his stance, tracing a line in the carpet with the pointed toe of her pump. “I did not expect this, and it’s still a tad surreal.”
He gave a slow nod. “I get that.”
Her gaze on the display, she rolled a shoulder. “It’s the same sensation I had at the beginning with Eleanor, without the crippling terror.”
Tightening his hold on the rail, he studied her profile. “We don’t have to do this.”
Stilling, she turned a speaking look on him, mouth slightly parted, brows drawn together — a How asinine are you? expression if he’d ever seen one.
“Look.” He lifted a hand between them. “It’s your body and your career. I have to put it out there.”
“It’s our baby. Your baby.” She turned her gaze back to the display. “So don’t be a jackass.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “You wanted to call me stupid.”
“I did not.”
He pinched her hip, the elevator shuddering to a stop. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Fine.” The irony and affection warred in her voice again. Shaking her head, she preceded him from the car, into the flow of agents in the lobby. “That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Hey, I didn’t say I wanted to go down that road.” He fell into step beside her, the click of her heels on tile a sweet sound. When was the last time they’d done this anyway? “I said I had to put it out there.”
“Excellent. You put it out there, and now it’s tabled permanently.” She strode ahead of him into the cafeteria, providing him with the perfect angle to enjoy the way her slacks skimmed her ass and thighs.
