Heartthrob (The Bennett Brothers 3)

use.”

Her eyes begin to shine again.

“And, for the record, the old Claire may have pitched a fit, screamed her head off, and made this a lot more difficult, but I’m happy with the new side of you.”

“You don’t like the old me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I fell in love standing across from you at a college party the first weekend we met. I’ve been falling harder every day since. This is an added bonus to an already perfect woman who has given me the gift of being mine.”

That does it. Her lips quiver and tears spill down her cheeks as she sucks in a shaky breath. Her hands go to my head, and she pulls me down to meet her mouth, crying openly as she kisses me. I welcome the saltiness of her tears, feeling her tremble in my arms.

“It has to be the hangover,” she says into my mouth.

“Yeah, babe, we’ll blame it on the hangover.”

Chapter 9

Claire

“One week could equal one month, one year, one decade…” Grace singsongs in my ear, squeezing my hand affectionately.

“Actually, it’s been two weeks,” I correct her.

“He had you moved in one week. The second week has been setting up your home. Technically, I’m right.”

“I’ll give you that.” I return the squeeze.

“We love what you’ve done; this place is gorgeous.” Bizzy joins us from putting Brinley down and hands me my wine.

I sip slowly, not ready for a repeat of the martini incident. “You guys helped.”

“No, we did small things. This is all you. This condo could be in a magazine since you’ve put your stamp on it.”

“You’re not kidding. When Mathis said anything you want, he meant it,” Grace adds.

My smile grows wider with their compliments, and a rush of pride surges through me. It means a lot they approve, but more so, I’m in love with the transformation. Mathis made it his mission to convert this place from a bachelor pad, giving me Carte Blanche. After looking at my things and how they mesh with his, we decided to put most of my furniture into storage. Kitchen items, linens, artwork, more knick-knacks, and general personal items, we blended together. The exception was my bedroom set. It replaced his in the guest room, and I redecorated, complete with new bedding, tons of pillows, and a ceiling overhang that makes it wispy-romantic. I was nervous to his response, considering it was hyper-feminine.

After one look around, he stalked to me, and we proceeded to christen the new bedding without a word. It was the first of many approving reactions I received during the makeover.

He was with me every shopping trip, slipping his credit card to the salespeople and telling me to go for it. The new arrangement in the living room opened up for more seating, and we needed it, so I chose a lush buttercream leather sofa and matching oversized chair so soft you feel like you’re floating on clouds. We painted walls, repositioned artwork, replaced the television with a new one with a larger screen, and added a bar-top table to the kitchen for casual dining. All of it is beautiful.

I still consider our styles modern, but there is no more masculinity anywhere to be found. It is perfect.

Once again, he showed his approval by christening the new furniture, rug, and table.

We worked our asses off. Every second either of us wasn’t working or sleeping, we were doing things around here. I gave us a self-imposed deadline of today to finish because tonight is our night to host MDN.

“Thank you.” I break from my thoughts and glance between Bizzy and Grace. “I love it.”

“When are Kelly and Mitch coming over?” Bizzy asks.

“They’re coming for dinner on Friday. It’s my next night off. It’s going to be interesting.”

“Why is that?”

“Because, one minute, I’m hunkering down in their condo and they’re given mixed signals about my relationship status. Less than a week later, behind my back, Mathis calls and tells them I’ve moved in with him. He didn’t give me a chance to break the news gently, or explain our reconciliation, or the fact we decided to live together. My mom has been blowing up my phone, pressuring me until I told her the toned-down story of what happened. Dad has been quiet, too quiet. I’m wondering if he’s going to show up tomorrow night, yank Mathis out the door, and pound him a few times.”

“Mitch isn’t violent!” Bizzy looks horrified.