My breath caught at what she said, all it meant and just how true it was.
KC wasn’t done.
“Hanna, babe, I haven’t seen it, but word on the street is that you’ve got that man caught so tight in your snare he’s never going to get loose. But the thing is, he has no intention of trying. The whole town knows this. The only one who doesn’t is you.”
Oh my God.
She was right about that, too!
KC kept on talking.
“Now, what you have to get is that he is who he is and he does what he does, and none of it, girl, with the way he is, is a surprise. This would be a different conversation if he took his hands to you, caused you pain, said shit that made you feel like dirt, but what you’ve said, he does the opposite. I’m not saying you need to be a timid little mouse and let him walk all over you. Get in his face. Make him back you in a corner. But then see it for what it is. Babe, if he cares about you and what you two are talking about so much he cages you in and gets in your face, that says volumes. Intense discussions, hell, even fights mean there’s feeling. It means that what you two are building is worth it to him. If he didn’t give a shit, if he thought you were a pain in the ass, he knows he can get it good elsewhere, so he wouldn’t put any effort into it and he’d just walk away.”
This totally made sense.
“I so should have talked to you weeks ago,” I told her.
KC smiled huge and twirled her hand in her hair.
“This is me. I got an alpha who pisses me off at the same time he rocks my world. Four years, five and a half with all that dating and engagement malarkey, I’m an expert.” She again wagged her finger at me as she invited, “Now, seeing as I have years on you, you now should feel free to come and share with Auntie KC all there is to Raiden Ulysses Miller. Everything. I’ll give you insights, girl, set you up to go forth and keep your badass hot guy happy.”
I smiled back. “I’ll do that, honey.”
And I would. Well, I mostly would.
She kept smiling at me as she came toward me, stopped, bent and kissed the top of Sam’s head loudly. That pretty baby head shot back. Sam let me go and smacked KC’s face, giggling.
KC giggled back and moved to the stove.
I thanked the Lord I had a good friend right before Sam turned her attention and I got a baby fist to the face.
This was when I started giggling.
Sam and KC giggled with me.
Thus, KC making me feel better about just about everything, when Raiden told me he was off on a job, and, “Babe, this one is gonna last awhile,” I’d felt safe to do what I wanted to do.
I wasted no time in doing it.
Therefore, Raiden had been gone for over a week and now he was back. I was pedaling to his den, excited to unveil what I had to unveil, hoping like all heck he liked it so much that maybe he’d back me against a wall to share that with me.
And I was looking forward to him doing it.
Chapter Sixteen
Bounty Hunter Language
I pedaled up the lane to Raiden’s den and saw him, arms and ankles crossed, leaning against the side of his Jeep.
At the sight, my thrill went wild.
I smiled huge and came to a stop behind his Jeep. He grinned back at me, his shades moving over me, Spot and my bike before he started to shake his head and pushed away from the car.
I shoved down the kickstand and hopped off. I started skipping to him, but stopped, dashed back and wagged my finger an inch from Spot’s kitty nose.
“Be good.”
He made a kitty face at me, which said clearly he would be whatever the heck he wanted to be.
I ignored him, turned and saw that Raiden had almost made it to me. There wasn’t a lot of room, but still, I ran it, took a leap and landed in his arms.
They closed tight around me.
I returned the favor with all four limbs then dropped my head to his that he’d kindly tilted back and laid a hot, heavy, wet one on him.
One of his hands slid to my behind and he let me.
I broke the kiss, smiled down at him and said, “Hi.”
“Hi,” Raid said back.
I battled a shiver that one syllable, said in his deep voice, shot through me and went on, “Welcome home.”
“Yeah, baby. You’re absolutely fuckin’ right. That was a welcome home.”
I didn’t bother battling the shiver that time and gave him a four limbed squeeze.
He returned the favor with two arms and a hand tightening on my booty.
“Right. Put me down,” I ordered. “We’ve got to get Spot and go inside.”
His mouth twitched before he dropped me to my feet and let me go.
I skipped back to Spot and hoisted him out of the basket.
“Meow,” he protested.
“Quiet, we have to show Raid his surprise.”
“Meow.” Spot, like most cats, wasn’t big on surprises.
“Shut it, buddy,” I ordered, walking up to Raiden, whereupon Spot made a break for it, a successful one, amassing his considerable kitty bulk and launching it at Raid.
Raiden caught him. Spot shoved his way up Raid’s chest, planted his paws in Raid’s shoulder and started purring.
“Crazy cat,” I muttered.
Raiden chuckled, one arm under Spot. His other hand came out and tagged mine.
“You got a surprise?” he prompted.
“Right,” I replied and bounced in my flip-flops. “Let’s go.”
Up the stairs we went, Raiden in front of me, Spot glaring at me over his shoulder, still purring.
When we got to the top, I shoved onto the landing, took the keys from Raiden’s hand and said, “Let me.”
I didn’t give him a choice.
So excited, I was again bouncing on my flip-flopped feet. I unlocked his door, threw it wide, took a huge step in and cried, “Voila!”
Raiden and Spot followed me. Raid lifting a hand to push his shades back on his head, he shut the door and looked around.
I danced around.
“Right!” I cried. “Starting here!”
I danced to the bed, stopped and looked back at him.
“Your sheets and comforter were nice, honey, but they didn’t match my afghan so I got this!” I motioned to his bed on the floor, the box springs now covered in a gray sheet, the mattress and pillowcases too. The comforter on top was black and gray, and there were two more pillows and some (not too many, only three) masculine but cool toss pillows scattered across the top.
I moved to the head of the bed.
“Mrs. Bartholomew was talking and said her grandson needed a project for Wood Shop. I got an idea, got the measurements and he made this!” I exclaimed, touching my hand to the black painted, low wood shelves that now ran the length of the head of the bed. Raiden’s paperbacks were shoved in the shelves, two attractive lamps on top at either side.
“I got the lamps,” I went on. “And Barry came in and wired an outlet in the floor under the shelves, so no more extension cords.”
Still holding Spot and standing just inside the door, Raiden stared at the bed, but I was so wired, I didn’t take that in and skipped to the kitchen.
“This, I found in an antique shop up Harborough Road. Killer sale,” I shared, running my arm down the front of a tall, wide cupboard against the wall like I was a game show hostess. “Up top, on the shelves, as you can see, cereal, protein powder and foodstuffs.” I bent and opened a cabinet door at the bottom of the cupboard. “Dishes down below.”