“That was why you became tolerable then.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Tolerable? That’s all?”
I shook my head and gazed deeply into his eyes. “It was when I first started to fall for you.”
“Well, that makes both of us, little warrior.” Kissing my cheek softly, he pulled away and snatched up two champagne glasses.
I laughed when I realized it wasn’t champagne, but the powdered juice we’d been drinking since we’d been here. “Red grape juice has nothing on champagne,” I said, taking the offered glass and swirling it around. “For a non-perishable, ration-like item, this stuff is actually really good.”
He gestured around the table. “This is the feast of non-perishable, long-lasting, safehouse food.”
“I love it. Thank you for doing this, baby.”
“You mentioned romance the other day. I wanted to at least make an attempt.”
“It’s more than an attempt,” I assured him. “It’s amazing.”
“Well, I’m glad you like it.” He held out his glass for a toast. “To us and many more nights like this to come once we get out of this safehouse.”
“Aww,” I said, clinking my glass against his.
We both took a sip, then started in on our meal.
“Who knew you were such a softie at heart, huh?”
He grinned. “Only with you.”
“I’ll take that,” I said, taking a bite of a tuna cracker. “Mmm. You seasoned this.”
“I had to.”
I laughed. “Such a dedicated cook.”
“I tell you, it was hard, given what there was to work with.”
“You pulled it off in a big way.”
I couldn’t believe he’d done this. It was so thoughtful and unbelievably sweet.
“Hey, how did you get this past me? There’s no backdoor through the kitchen. You would’ve had to come through the living room, right where I was sitting.”
“You were immersed in that Beauty and the Beast volume. Plus, you know, I have the nickname, Wraith, for a reason. I’m incredibly stealth when I want to be.”
I laughed, then shoveled some macaroni and cheese onto my plate. I eyed him looking relaxed and happy. With him in a good mood, I figured this was as good a chance as any to ask him what I’d been holding off with for a while now. “Finn?” I started.
His gaze shot to mine. Right away, he noticed the serious look on my face. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“I… uh. During the toast, you mentioned getting out of here.”
“Yeah.”
“Was that just wishful thinking, or do you know something?” I knew he’d been trying to protect me more than just physically. He’d kept me shielded from whatever was going on back at the Iron Kings clubhouse. But I was ready now. I wanted to know. I needed to know.
He put down his cutlery and sat back, giving me his full focus. “No. I’ve run an idea by your father.”
I braced myself. “What is it?”
“For me to become actively involved.”
“Are you talking about becoming a part of Iron Kings?”
“There are things that I can do that your father and his club members can’t, because of my ghost status. To the world, I don’t exist. I can do things without the kind of debilitating restrictions and consequences that they would have to deal with.”
It didn’t escape my notice that he hadn’t directly answered my question about joining my dad’s club. “Finn,” I pressed.
“If there was no suffocating, overbearing interference in your life, would returning to Ridgefield be a viable option for you?”
“I have been thinking about it lately. I love the town, the people, the homely atmosphere that exists there. When I was a kid, I actually wanted to stay there and move into this lovely little house down by the lake on the outskirts of town. It’s beautiful and surrounded by nature, a lot like this place. But then things spiraled out of control when my mom was murdered. My dad became batshit-crazy about protecting me and ensuring the same fate didn’t befall me.”
He nodded, taking my words in.
“There are a couple of good locations for me to set up TRUE INK,” I went on. “So, I guess, my answer is yes. It’s more than just a possibility. But things between me and my dad would have to change and that just seems like too much of a tall order.”
“Maybe not,” he said, cryptically.
“Really? How?”
“Like I said, I’m working on it.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see if it pans out then.”
“Right,” he said, picking up his cutlery again and tucking into his food.
A comfortable silence settled between us as we both feasted on the awesome meal he’d prepared.
When I’d eaten my fill, I slumped back in my chair with a satisfied sigh and looked up at him. He’d finished too and he was just sitting there watching me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, just admiring the view.”
“Stop it,” I said, feeling my cheeks flaming.
“How can I? Look at you.”
I glanced down at myself. I was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a strappy white tank top. Not the sexiest of outfits, really.
“I’m talking about the way your eyes light up when you taste something that agrees with you. The little, squirrel-like bites you take to savor every morsel. How you tuck your hair behind your ears to avoid getting it in your food. The way you lick your lips after each sip of juice. Everything.”
“Wow. That was beautiful.”
He leaned across the table and kissed me. I knew he was intending it as just a sweet peck, but I couldn’t leave it at that. Not after his wonderful words and this heartfelt dinner.
I fisted my hand in his gray muscle tee and held him to me as I escalated the kiss. Before I knew it, I was pushing
