Ready to Run (I Do, I Don't 1)

She only knew that whatever had just happened felt like more than a casual hook-up, and it scared the crap out of her.

Because there was no future for a TV producer in New York City and a firefighter in Montana, and they both knew it.

He rolled them both to their sides, his arm pulling her near. She wiggled close, knowing what both their quiet gestures silently conveyed:

Whatever they had to deal with, tomorrow would be soon enough.

Chapter 19

It was still dark when Luke climbed out of bed to let the dog out, careful not to wake Jordan as he slowly pulled his arm from beneath her head.

She made a disgruntled noise but didn’t wake as she rolled over and burrowed farther beneath the covers.

His covers.

Luke waited for the stab of panic, frowned when it didn’t come.

He didn’t do this. He didn’t do one-night stands at his place, he didn’t have women stay over, and he sure as hell didn’t do any of the above with a sassy New Yorker who was easily the most provocative and responsive woman he’d ever had in his bed.

And yet far from anxiously awaiting the moment he could get rid of her, Luke found that he sort of liked her just where she was.

He pulled on his jeans and grabbed a fresh T-shirt from the drawer before heading into the hallway.

As expected, Winston was pressed against the door, his baleful glare making it clear he wasn’t entirely ready to forget last night’s banishment, but the tail wag indicated he might be persuaded to forgive if there was bacon in his future.

“I’ll think about it,” Luke promised the dog as they headed downstairs.

He opened the back door for Winston to do his business, and Luna appeared from wherever she’d been lurking, giving Luke a disdainful look before sauntering out into the early morning chill.

“Your highness,” he muttered, leaving the door open a crack so they could find their way back inside.

Winston thumped into the kitchen a couple of minutes later, chomping the remainder of last night’s dinner as Luke waited for the coffee to finish.

He’d just poured his first cup and turned to close the back door but drew up short at the sight of Jordan walking into the kitchen—wearing his shirt, carrying his cat.

For one annoying moment, his chest tightened with…something. And not the panic he kept bracing for.

“Morning,” she said, her voice still a bit sleep-raspy. Her smile was friendly and confident, but her blue eyes held a trace of vulnerability, as though not sure of her welcome.

Luke eased her worries in the best way he knew how, turning toward the coffeepot and pouring her one.

“Milk, right?” he asked, going to the fridge.

“Please. Just a bit.”

He added a splash and turned back with both mugs.

Jordan gave Luna a kiss on the head before gently setting her on the floor. The quiet affection left Luke oddly jealous of a cat he barely liked.

“For the record, I feed you and clean your litter box,” he said with a scowl at the cat.

Luna swished her tail indifferently and hopped onto the kitchen chair, back to him.

“She’ll be there till the sun comes up and the birds come out,” he explained. “They’ll sit in that tree, she’ll scream bloody murder at them for twenty minutes, Winston will then bark at her, I’ll yell at Winston…Obviously you’ll want to stay; it’s a real treat.”

She laughed. “What would be my role, yelling at you?”

“Impossible.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Women never yell at me; I’m too charming.”