Rescuing Her Seal(28)

Maybe he liked her enough to want to spend time with her? He’d started to feel like the fates had thrown them together for a reason? Or was that just her?

Cue the panic. She was so far out of her depths here. What did she know about the dynamic between men and women? About relationships? Nothing. And now her chest hurt.

His lips touched her shoulder, and that loosened her lungs enough to let her breath. See? She could so talk to him about anything, and it was okay.

“Because you’re worth it,” he murmured, and everything hitched inside. Lungs, heart, core. Of course, they’d all been working in tandem since the moment he’d first kissed her.

And he was wrong. He was some kind of earthbound angel sent to her, and she didn’t discount that miracle in the slightest. The thrill of Fitz shot her into the stratosphere.

“Also?” he continued. “Normal is overrated. I like you the way you are, even when you’re being awkward.”

Her cheeks flamed as her rocket to the stars crashed and burned. “You think I’m awkward?”

Of course he did. She was a walking disaster.

“Sure. But aren’t we all at some point? It’s not what defines you. It just makes you cuter than all the other girls who don’t know how to be themselves.”

Her eyelids pricked unexpectedly. “That’s the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

When she’d confessed that she’d never been in love, she hadn’t expected to be halfway there before the night was through. But if he didn’t want her to think he was wonderful, then he should stop being that way.

“That’s because you don’t talk to people, silly.”

She could practically hear him smiling. He did it with his whole body, as if a smile was really an extension of the state of his soul—happy. And why wouldn’t he be happy with his life? He was gorgeous, self-assured, smack in the middle of a job he loved. His world stayed rosy twenty-four seven.

“Talking to you, aren’t I?” she shot back and sighed as his arms shifted to snuggle her closer. The sheet slipped a little, and he pulled it up because that’s what he did. Took care of things, tossing his invisible cape over his shoulder with confidence as if it didn’t matter what he did. It was going to work out.

“How did you know doing this race with me was the right thing?” she asked, a bit fascinated by the idea that some people could forge ahead with life, unafraid, unapologetic. Might be a good time to learn how to do that.

He shrugged. “I have a sense about things.”

“Like a sixth sense?” she teased and then thought better of it. Um… This wasn’t about to get really weird, was it?

He laughed. “I don’t see dead people if that’s what you mean. It’s just like a gut reaction. I immediately know whether something is the right move or not. Or rather, most of the time I do.”

His voice got quiet, tripping over the emphasis on “most,” and it sank into her with little barbs. He’d never been anything other than cheerful and upbeat. “That sounds like a story.”

“Eh. Yeah. Maybe. There was an ambush.”

Like an ambush, ambush? As in bad guys with guns who hid behind buildings and shot people as they moved unsuspectingly into range? Suddenly the brutality of his job made her ashamed of the fact that she’d painted him with a sunshine-and-roses brush. If he generally had a smile on his face, it was not because his life had less crappiness than other people’s. Smiling was a choice.

And that was absolutely his sexiest quality.

He fell silent for so long that she started to wonder if she was supposed to hug him or ask what happened or some other fill-in-the-blank that a captain of the clueless squad like her would never be able to figure out.

“It could have gone badly,” he murmured before she could decide. “Fortunately, my team is the best in the business. No thanks to me.”

“So you were supposed to warn them?” There was no way he’d fallen down on the job, not when he had badass flowing from his marrow.

“In a way. I’m the guy they depend on to find out about stuff like that. And I didn’t, not that time.” The statement had a finality to it, as if it had happened and he’d moved on. But nothing was that easy, especially not for someone so capable.

“I’m sorry.”

“Enough about that,” he said lightly. “I’m on vacation. You’re on vacation. No more work talk.”

“Can you really shut it down so easily?” she asked instead of letting him change the subject. If this was something that was weighing on him, a fireside chat might be just what he needed. “It must have been hard to feel like you screwed up. You don’t give the impression you screw up much.”