“As a heart attack. You’ll have to take my word for it, but, Jeff, I know her. And I like her a hell of a lot.”
Then because he simply couldn’t pass on the opportunity to goad an old friend when the opportunity was right there, he added, “Back on the horse, like you said.”
“Speaking of... Does she know about Caro?”
“She does. I told her the first night.” He cleared his throat and looked out over the tarmac. “Then again yesterday.” He’d been damn lucky she’d asked him about any serious relationships during their refresher course in Know Thy Mate. Caroline had been the dead-last thing on his mind, and something told him it wouldn’t exactly have fostered the trust they were building if he hadn’t gotten that tidbit on the table. And even now, he realized there were details he should fill in. Specifics that didn’t actually change anything, but—hell, Megan’s capitulation in giving this marriage a try had been a close thing. Too close. He wasn’t willing to risk some unfortunate chronology putting her off, at least not until they were on more solid ground.
“Can’t believe you didn’t introduce us yesterday. I want to meet this woman...now that I know she didn’t drag you down the aisle at knifepoint,” Jeff clarified.
Connor grinned and started walking again, raising a hand when Megan turned his way, her too-wide smile doing too many things to him at once.
“Soon. For now, I’m ready to get her home.”
“Good to hear it. But I want details. Start at the beginning.”
“You’d been gone about thirty seconds when the ‘gymnast’ shows up at the table, with this whopper of a line.”
“The gymnast? Dude!”
Megan met him halfway and, apparently having overheard the last bit, arched an amused brow. Leaning toward the phone, she piped in, “I’m not a gymnast.”
Connor ducked and dropped a quick kiss at her temple, relishing the faint blush in her cheeks. “Only, she’s not a gymnast, and it’s not actually a line...”
* * *
Megan woke to the steady thud, thud of Connor’s heart beneath her ear, the constant weight of his arm around her waist and the whirl of a mind anxious to put sleep behind it.
After two nonstop days in Denver, they’d packed the bulk of her apartment, leaving only the barest essentials behind. Laughter and fun like she’d never known had punctuated intense negotiations, strict limits and hard deadlines as a plan for the next three months came together. Sleeping arrangements, travel and social obligations, their respective professional commitments and myriad other details of this life they were embarking on had to be addressed. With so much to do, and so many decisions to make...it had been after midnight when Connor finally carried her over the threshold of his spacious San Diego home and about five minutes after that when they’d collapsed into bed.
Now Megan was blinking the sleep from her eyes, a silly grin curving her lips as the phrase “Today is the first day of the rest of your life” came to mind. Squinting around the unfamiliar room, she located a clock at the far corner and winced at the realization today was beginning at the ungodly hour of four.
Megan made a stealthy escape from the bed and padded down the stairs, flipping on one light after another as she tried to familiarize herself with a house not yet her home, searching for clues about the man she’d married along the way. What she’d discovered was an immaculately decorated showplace, where each room had a central piece of artwork around which everything else flowed. Horses in charcoal tore across an open plain in the massive study, a bronze figurine capturing the essence of a weary rider atop his mount was the central focus in a reading room, and aged leather behind glass in the living room revealed her husband had the heart of a cowboy.