Falling for the Marine (McCade Brothers 2)

He reached his Jeep, leaned against the driver’s side, and considered faking a bad connection. “Yeah, she mentioned you called.” Time to change the topic. “Listen, what do you want for your birthday?” He’d taken care of the birthday present weeks ago. He, Trevor, and Logan went thirds on an Alaskan Cruise his mom had talked about taking for ages. Chloe’s birthday was coming soon, and he needed to plan—

“She told me you two are friends.”

So much for a topic change. “That’s true.”

“She also mentioned you were in the shower when I called.”

“Also true.” But he braced for whatever she threw at him next.

“She’s one of those friends you invite over at shower time?”

“I can’t…you. Think we have…bad connection.”

“Don’t lie to your mother. There’s not a thing wrong with this connection. I want to meet Chloe. That’s what I want for my birthday.”

Invite her to meet his parents? God, no. He’d spent the better part of last night facing some brutal truths. He was falling in love with her. He wanted her to stay. And he was pretty damn sure she was falling, too. But her fears erected huge barriers against any kind of relationship between them. If he wanted to breach those barriers, he had to move slowly and strategically. Let his migratory houseguest think they were just messing around until she’d nested so completely she couldn’t imagine flying the coop. Asking commitment-phobic Chloe to meet his parents was neither slow nor strategic. It would trigger every flight instinct she possessed.

“Mom, I don’t think—”

“Sorry, sweetie. Can’t…hear you. Must be…bad connection.”

The dial tone came through loud and clear.

Fuck. He looked around, automatically seeking an escape route from the trap he’s walked into when he’d called his mom. The flower shop across the street caught his eye. He jogged over and, in a few minutes, picked out a bouquet of happy-looking blooms with a pale, honey-orange color that reminded him of Chloe’s hair. Whittling away at her defenses required subtlety, not the head-on attack he’d launched during dinner last night. A congratulations-on-your-first-day-of-work bouquet seemed like a step in the right direction, followed by a celebratory dinner out somewhere nice, because as much as she might deny it, Chloe liked wine and candlelight. She liked romance. It was time he gave her some. Besides, he justified as he started the Jeep, he did hope she’d had a great first day at this new job. He hoped she liked it so much she decided to stay.

Ten minutes later he walked into his apartment. “Chloe?”

“In here.”

He stepped into the living room and blinked. She sat on the sofa in her little purple robe, with her hair tied into a bundle at the top of her head, and something that looked like mint-green frosting slathered over her entire face except for her eyes and mouth. Her feet rested on the coffee table, amidst a war chest of…products. Tortuous-looking toe spreaders separated her freshly painted toenails.

“Flower delivery for Chloe Kincaid.”

She beamed, which caused her frosting masque to crack, and held out her hands for the bouquet.

He pulled the flowers out of her reach. “Not so fast. I’m going to need some proof of your identity.”

Her smile turned a little wicked—or maybe that was just the green gunk working on his mind—then she stood, turned around, and flipped the back of her robe up to flash him her tattoo. She turned back around, still grinning. “Does that work?”

He handed her the bouquet and discreetly adjusted himself so his dick wasn’t straining against the seam of his pants. “I’ll accept that as preliminary ID. Later, I’m going to need to see it again and make a closer inspection.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He shrugged. “It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it. You don’t want to get me in trouble, do you?”

“Heaven forbid.” She buried her face in the big blossoms and breathed them in. “These are beautiful. How did you know peonies were my favorite?”

“Lucky guess. They reminded me of you—pretty and exuberant.”

Her eyes shifted to his face, and lingered. He had a funny feeling she was blushing under the frosting and gave himself a mental high five.

“What’s the occasion?”

“I was thinking about you. Hoping your first day at the new job went well.”

“Really well. Thanks. Let me put these in water.”

“I’ll do it.” He took the flowers and headed to the kitchen. “Tell me about your day,” he said as he dug in a cabinet for a jar to put the flowers in.