Roman-1(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(36)

“You’re nervous. Good. That means you’re taking this seriously and you’re less likely to mess things up. Now,” she says, smiling in that way only a mother can when looking at her child. “Remember to be open and honest and whatever you do, Roman, do not get impatient.”

“Ma, I’m not—”

“Boy, I raised you and watched you become a man. I know you. You see something you want and you go at it and do not stop till you’re on the money. Mel isn’t a mission or a case or a goal to achieve and you know it. She’s a woman with feelings and a lot of unresolved issues thanks to that horrible organization and the way she lost her dear father.”

Dear father my ass. The chief was my friend at the end, but I’m not about to lie and start pinning father-of-the-year awards on the man. He was an ornery old cuss who only saw what he had when it was almost too late.

Kind of like you, Roman, old pal?

I forcefully shake away that stray thought and take a fortifying breath.

“I’ll go slow and do things right, Ma. I promise.”

“Good, because I already ordered Mel’s dress and the caterer keeps calling for a head count.” She pats my cheek again.

“I’ll try to get her back, I will, but if I’ve damaged her love too much, I’ll have to be satisfied with what she’ll give me. And so will you. Promise me you won’t try to force anything if she doesn’t want to get back together with me,” I plead, taking Miah’s advice for once.

Because he’s right. Mel deserves more than what I gave her.

“Stop talking nonsense and go use all that charm your father gave you, boy.”

I turn away with a smirk and leave the house through the back, forcing myself to walk at a slow and even rate, though I want to run to her like some lovesick dog just dying for attention.

I get about halfway before I turn back to see them all looking down at me from a window in my bedroom and I flip them the bird to let them know how little I appreciate their spying.

By the time I get to the cottage and knock on the door, I’m back to sweating and snapping the fingers on my right hand with a vengeance. She finally opens the door and stands there smiling nervously, looking so perfect that I have difficulty catching my breath.

How in hell’s name could I leave this woman to go on a suicide mission when every part of me and the happiness I now feel is wrapped up in her?

Jesus, I am the world’s biggest fool and I know it.

“Hey, baby girl,” I say after staring at her and taking in her knee-length sundress and bare feet.

“Hey right back at ya, Lane. Come on in, I already set the table and got us drinks,” she says, turning away.

I can see the pulse pounding at her neck and it makes my own nerves steadier when I realize that she’s just as anxious about this date as I am. Probably more if that nervous habit she has of biting at the right bottom corner of her lip is any indication.

I want to pull her into my arms and suck that lip into my mouth the way I used to whenever she worried. And then I want to rip her dress off and explore every inch of her body with my hands, mouth, and every other part of me.

I want to belong to her again. Hell, she can keep her maiden name and independence, and I will even stop calling her mine if that’s the way my fiery vixen wants it. But I need her to claim me again, because without that tether to her I am adrift and lost.

“Um, so let’s see what Mama whipped up for us, huh? Oh golly! She made the fried chicken? That woman is totally evil.” She laughs and I feel the tension drop away immediately.

“Yeah, she really is. She also made brownies and some of those spinach balls you like so much,” I murmur, unpacking the basket with a smile when I see a bottle of apple cider instead of Champagne.

Mel starts unloading it all and I help her carry it to the little table in the corner before pulling her chair out and seating her like I always did. Some things with her just come naturally.

“So, you’re looking pretty lost in thought tonight, Lane. You still worrying about old Lynn and that other secret council member?” Mel asks, watching me from beneath lowered lashes.

This must be a test or something, and while my first reaction is to tell her every feeling I have, I throttle it back and shake it off, going for cool, calm, and attentive instead.

“No. That’s Miah’s problem now,” I say, picking up a piece of chicken and almost choking on the thing when Mel takes a bite of hers and moans long and low, just the way she does right before…

“Oh Lord, this tastes so good. I think every taste bud on my tongue has doubled in size with this pregnancy, because food just tastes so different now.”