Page 59 of All At Once

Be there with bells on, precious

You’re so lame

He waited, watching bubbles dance on the screen.

Please don’t bring an actual bell

Laughing, he tucked the phone in his pocket and pushed his chair back, pointing at Gene. “You need another ride home. Get one of these jokers to drive you.”

“Where are you going?” Del asked.

An irresistible grin tugged at Tick’s mouth, and he grabbed the rental key fob. “To pick up my favorite girl.”

For a split second at the Scott Street traffic light, he considered running into the feed and seed for a cow bell, but she’d kill him for real. He made the airport by five-fifteen, anticipation building in him as the commuter jet glided in to land. He didn’t know why she’d changed her mind about working remotely and joining him, but he was sure as hell glad for that change of heart, no matter the reason.

At the long bank of windows, he watched her deplane, late afternoon sunlight glinting off her hair.

She was here.

He met her at the door, ivory blouse and black skirt skimming her body, calm and elegant and so damn beautiful his chest hurt.

He folded her in a hard embrace, one hand splayed across her shoulder, the other buried in her hair. The moment hung suspended as she wrapped her arms around his waist, palms against his back.

He pressed his mouth to her temple. “I am so damn glad to see you.”

“It’s mutual.” She flexed her hands on his back, pulling free to smile up at him. “Am I inconveniencing you?”

“Are you kidding?” He dropped a kiss on her mouth. “This is the best idea you’ve had all year. Let’s get your bag.”

While he loaded her luggage in the trunk, he glanced sideways at her. She balanced her weight on one foot, calf flexing above her nude pump. Her fitted skirt parted at a short side slit, affording him a glimpse of her leanly muscled leg.

He closed the trunk, then opened the passenger door for her. In the seat, she shifted to grab the seatbelt, wrap-style blouse gaping a scant inch. His hand itched with the remembrance of dragging a similar blouse down her arm, baring her shoulder to his mouth. Memories flashed in his head, taking her against the wall just inside the door of their dressing room, his name on her lips later as he thrust inside her and she came apart around him.

He’d ruined that blouse, torn it, and she’d made him fork over two hundred bucks for it. He hadn’t even cared.

Geez, he was a goner over her. Always had been.

He slid behind the wheel, reaching to fire the ignition. Awareness prickled over him, and he slanted a glance sideways to find her gaze tracing the muscles in his forearms. He dropped his attention back to the gearshift with a slight grin. He recognized that look — he wasn’t the only one remembering the way things were between them physically.

He let his gaze rove her face before he shifted to drive. “Have you heard from the girls?”

“No, but it’s summer camp, Tick. They don’t want them calling home so they don’t get homesick, remember?” Her green gaze traced his features as well. “They haven’t been gone ten hours yet.”

“How bad was the whole separation anxiety bit?” He merged into the sparse flow of traffic, took the left hand lane so he’d be able to turn onto 91.

“Not as awful as you’d think. Serena’s in her cabin, and they sat together on the bus.” Affection tipped up the corners of her lips. He cast a quick glance at her before he turned on the highway. She looked good — rested, peaceful, happy.

And it had been awhile since he’d seen that.

“Good.” He’d worry less knowing that, be able to focus better. Grinning, he rested his wrist on the steering wheel. Now, with Caitlin here, he’d probably sleep better, too. He wasn’t too proud to admit to his own version of separation anxiety.

“How bad was your golf game?” Her gaze swept over his thighs in the gray slacks like a touch.

He cut a sidelong glance at her. “Don’t be mean to me. You know I lost. Hell, I didn’t even play the last two holes because Gene was peckish and it was quicker to let them play on so he could eat.”

Her husky laugh tickled his ears. “I don’t understand why you’re so awful. It’s spatial, like every other sport you play.”

Lifting a hand, he shook his head. “Maybe the same reason you play basketball worse than a four-year-old, but kill on the volleyball court.”