Chase Me If You Can(71)
“Colorado it is.”
Chapter Eighteen
Daylight is little more than a pink splash across the peaks when we pull into my driveway. Wes’s SUV, new windows gleaming in the fading light, is right where Eric said it would be.
There’s a weird ache in my chest at the sight. In the five years since I bought the house, there’s never been anyone but my family waiting for me when I get home—and those unannounced visits never end well. What would it be like to come home to someone?
What would it be like to come home to Wes?
The sudden longing brought on by the thought surprises me with its strength. I kill the ignition and lean back into the driver’s seat without looking at him before he can catch the want that’s probably painted all over my face. It’s too big. Too dangerous when I still don’t entirely trust that he’s in this as much as he says he is. No matter how badly I’d like it to be true, if I learned anything from my mother’s parade of men, some of life’s biggest disappointments come packaged in pretty words.
Wes reaches for the door handle. “I guess we better go inside.”
“A break from the car would be great,” I reply with a laugh that hopefully doesn’t sound as forced as it feels. With his arm slung around me, we grab our bags and start for the door.
“If there’s time before we leave tomorrow, I’m fixing that death trap stair,” Wes grumbles when he steps over the rotting step. “It won’t take long, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re not going to hurt yourself.” He yawns, waiting at my side while I fiddle with the lock and pretend I’m not having feelings about how casually he insists he’s going to fix something I’ve been meaning to do for a year. “I’m thinking we order a pizza and crash early. You in?”
Like we’re a couple who just got home and are about to spend a night curled up together on the couch. It’s a fleeting glimpse of the life I just imagined—and I like it far too much.
“As long as we can get something green with that pizza,” I tell Wes as we shuffle into the house. “And I don’t care what sort of insane delivery fee they want to charge. We are not getting back in the car tonight.”
“What do you want? I’ll take care of it.”
I blink. “You mean that, don’t you?”
He gives me an odd look and mutters something about a low bar and people with shovels. “It’s just pizza, darlin’.”
“I know. I just…” I flush. “It’s really nice, that’s all. I get tired of deciding all the things. You don’t make me do that.”
It isn’t until that moment I realize how true it is. In the last three and a half weeks on the road together, I can’t remember Wes once turning to me at the end of the day and demanding to know what the plan was for dinner. Most of the time he’d already looked at the options and gave me two or three to pick from. It made the decisions so effortless that I hardly realized I was deciding at all.
“I like looking after you.” Wes presses a kiss to my temple. “Go relax. You mind if I throw laundry in while we’re here?”
“If I ask you to throw mine in too am I going to end up with all my clothes three sizes too small?” I ask. I’m only half teasing.
He shakes his head with a low noise. “Sloane, darlin’, I know you’ve got your reasons, but one of these days, I’m going to need you to stop assuming that I’m as useless as your brothers.”
“That wasn’t what…” Guilt stains my cheeks instantly despite his gentle tone. “Sorry. I just—”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Wes cups my jaw in his palm and drops a light kiss on my forehead before pointing at the door that leads to the basement. “Laundry down there?”
I nod, watching him go before grabbing my camera bag and heading for my office while my emotions engage in a mental melee. I don’t bother flipping on any lights, just drop the bag on my chair and then duck into my bedroom to change into something more comfortable. Except when I open my closet, I skip right over the sweats and grab a long maxi dress that’s both soft against my skin and features a plunging neckline. The fabric is thin enough that it might actually be a nightgown, but since I only ever wear it around the house, that’s never been a problem.
I doubt Wes is going to mind.
I’m still finger-combing out the remnants of my braid when I yawn my way back into the living room at the same moment he emerges from the basement. He’s changed too, now in loose gray sweatpants and yet another black T-shirt. He freezes with his hand still on the doorknob, hunger replacing weariness. “I like that one.”
“And I like those sweatpants.” I let my stare dip lower. “Though I really hope you wear underwear in public.”
It startles a laugh out of him. Wes glances down, as if he wasn’t already aware that his pants leave nothing to the imagination. Maybe we had similar thoughts. “We’re not in public, though, are we?” he teases with a smug grin.
I let out a pleased squeak when he sweeps me into his arms, deposits us both on the couch, and kisses me like it’s been ten months instead of ten hours, before reluctantly pulling away. “Got a place you like or should I pick?”
I pluck his phone out of his hand and pull up my favorite pizza shop in town. We bicker over toppings for a few minutes—pepperoni and pineapple absolutely go together and Wes is just wrong about olives—but once the order is placed, he tosses his phone onto the ottoman and waggles his eyebrows at me, heat and mischief building in his eyes. “They said thirty to forty minutes. What do you think we should do with ourselves until then?”