Wound Up(92)
He’d moved her in with him. He’d taken care of everything, given her options, offered to help her get set up on her own or become a more permanent part of his life. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“I’m pretty responsible, so I would imagine I can manage my own place just fine.”
Again, she was forced to clarify. “No. What I meant was what if it doesn’t work out between us? What if this is just some highly charged emotional save-the-damsel response you’re having and you want to kick me out of your apartment in a few days?”
“I imagine we’ll fight, Grace. Couples do. But it doesn’t have to be ugly or violent or terminal. We’re both educated psychologists. We should, in theory, be able to work through our differences.”
She swiveled her chair toward her little section of the desk to garner as much privacy as she could. “Can I think about it?”
“Yeah.”
His strained answer made her peek over her shoulder. The skin around his eyes had tightened even though the rest of his body appeared relaxed. That’s how she knew he was lying. Well, maybe not “lying,” but he sure wasn’t giving her the complete truth. She’d let it ride for now. There was too much else to handle. “Where will I sleep?”
“With me if you’re comfortable with that.”
Grace’s throat tightened. “Okay. We’ll try it. One day, er, night at a time.”
“Aren’t you going to acknowledge the ‘couples’ comment?” he asked quietly.
Her mouth was so dry she could have sharecropped space right off her tongue. She had to swallow a couple of times before she answered. “You want honesty?”
“Always.”
His nearly vehement response shocked her into turning around fully. “I didn’t even think twice about it.”
“And why is that?”
Heat burned up her neck. “It sounded natural, okay?”
He was at her side in a moment, pulling her from her chair the next. Wrapping her in his strong embrace, he spun her around while he grinned like a loon.
She laughed. “Put me down, you idiot.”
“Grace Cooper is my girlfriend.”
Her lips twitched. “I suppose she is.”
“Lucky girl.”
“Lucky guy.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “No doubt.” Glancing back at the clock, he sighed. “Finally five. Ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah.” She reached for her messenger bag but he snatched it up before she could. “You going to carry my books, too?” she teased, hoisting up the three texts she was using to help her with the day’s case notes.
Justin wiggled his fingers. “Hand ’em over.”
“I might be a damsel, but I’m not in distress.” She rolled her lips together, fighting the bad habit she had of chewing on them. “Not anymore, anyway.”
“You were never in distress, honey. You were just stressed out. Big difference.”