Things got a little out of hand before I buried my cold face into the crook of her neck.
“Brady! Stop! That’s cold.”
“Mmm. I’ve got some killer ideas on how we can warm up.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lennox
‡
Four months later . . .
“Don’t take too long in there,” Brady yelled to me from the bedroom. “I’m anxious to see the surprise you’ve got planned for me. I’m hoping it involves sexy lingerie and whipped cream.”
I rolled my eyes and shut the bathroom door. After I stripped, I started to worry that my surprise was lame and would be a serious letdown for him. And that would suck because our weekend had been perfect so far.
Perfect.
Brady Lund, Mr. Freakin’ Perfect, turned out to be the most perfect boyfriend ever.
I don’t know why that surprised me. The man excelled at everything.
In the months we’d been dating, he’d put as much effort into our relationship as he did into his career.
It was humbling.
It was exciting.
It was life-changing.
But since Brady was the ultimate boyfriend, that meant he was always two steps ahead of me. Due to his newfound spontaneity, I was having a harder time coming up with a way to surprise him because he always thought of something way cooler first.
To mark our “anniversary,” Brady had taken me back to the Lund cabin in the North Woods. In addition to forcing me to learn how to snowshoe, he’d taken me ice fishing. Then we’d attended the local Winter Festival, complete with ice-carving and snowman-making contests, an “ice wine” tasting and ending with a dance beneath the starry winter sky. The night had been magical even before we’d returned to the cabin, and he made slow, sweet, passionate love to me in front of a roaring fire. He’d even earned points for moving the bearskin rug out of the way beforehand.
As we’d returned to the Cities this afternoon, I suggested we visit his parents. Since the Vikings hadn’t made the playoffs, we hadn’t been spending every Sunday with his family—not that I minded hanging out with the Lunds because they were the most loving and welcoming people I’d ever been around—and I suspected Brady missed that family time. Once Selka had us in her sights, she whipped up a batch of her famous Swedish hot chocolate—who knew that vodka and chocolate mixed together would be so tasty? Then Walker, Annika and Jensen showed up, and we stayed longer than we’d planned.
At first I worried it’d be awkward working for Annika when I was involved with her brother, but so far we’d hadn’t encountered any issues. I loved my new job. It challenged me, and Brady had to pry me away from my desk most nights instead of the other way around.
After we left the Lund stronghold, I asked Brady to drop me off at my house. He’d ignored me and driven straight to his place, hence his eagerness to get me into his bed.
I could admit I had gotten used to waking up with him. I’d gotten used to us inhabiting the same space when the workday ended and when the weekend began. Since I’d made such a big deal about taking things slowly, now I was having a devil of a time figuring out how to tell him I was ready to speed things up.
Two raps sounded on the door, and I jumped.
“Lennox? Baby, you all right? You’ve been in there a while.”
“I’ve been in here two minutes, horndog.”
He howled on the other side of the door.
Crazy man. “I’ll be right there.”
“Hurry. I miss you.”
His sweetness killed me. Would I ever get used to the way he loved me with everything he had?
No. But now that I knew that type of forever love existed, I’d never take it for granted. I’d do everything to give that same heady feeling back to him every chance I had.
So quit stalling.
I dug out the shirt I’d stashed beneath the stack of towels. I debated whether to put it on. Would Brady think it was weird? Or stupid?
Only one way to find out.
I slipped the polo shirt on over my head, smoothed my flyaway hair and exited the bathroom.
Brady sat on the edge of the bed. When he saw me, his gaze skimmed over my bare legs and the boy-short panties to focus on the shirt I wore. “Where did you get that shirt?”
“I . . . uh . . . stole it from your closet two weeks ago when you were downstairs working out.”
“What did you do to it?”
“Personalized it.”
“When?”
“Last Saturday at the LCCO Outreach Center, when you were in Detroit. The craft that day was embellishing a shirt. I’m not the arty type, so I put my own spin on it.”
“Want to explain why you put your spin on my shirt?” He eyed the glued-on decals warily. “Do you expect me to wear that?”