Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

SPENCER

I stood in Marlow's apartment, the adrenaline from the day's events still running through my veins. Marlow looked stunning, dressed casually in tight leggings and a loose hoodie, clearly not wearing a bra. Holy hell.

I raked my fingers through my hair, knowing I needed to tell her what I had done. I had no idea how she was going to take it. Marlow was fiercely independent. She was not going to appreciate me butting into her business. The last thing she was going to want was me acting like an alpha trying to protect his woman.

She wasn't my woman.

I inhaled, smelling something really, really good. But I couldn't let myself get distracted.

"Spencer, are you okay?" Marlow asked softly.

I looked at her, staring into her pretty hazel eyes. I wasn't sure how to answer that. I wasn't okay. I had just threatened a man because he was bothering her. I didn't do things like that. At least not since I was a young, cocky buck that liked getting in trouble.

"I screwed up, Marlow," I began, my voice rough.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I saw red and inserted myself into your personal business. I lost control. I went to confront Dakota, and when that went sideways, I went down Rhett's throat and basically told him to grow a pair of balls and have his sister's back."

Marlow watched me with an unreadable expression. Did I go too far? Was she angry with me? She was giving me nothing. I couldn't tell what she was thinking. I looked away from her, my gaze scanning the room. Her apartment was impeccably tidy, the luxurious appliances and finishing touches were very similar to the furnishings in her office.

And I swore I smelled garlic bread. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought earlier.

"I know," she said.

I frowned and looked at her once again. "You know?"

She slowly nodded, but she still wasn't giving me a clue about what she was thinking.

"Rhett already called you, didn't he?" I asked, my heart sinking.

She nodded again. "He did. And he had a lot of things to say."

"Shit," I muttered, feeling guilty.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"What?" I asked with confusion.

"Thank you for what you did," she said softly. "I doubt it's going to change anything but thank you. I've been begging Rhett to cut Dakota off all year, but it means something to me that you would try. Nobody has ever fought for me like that before."

Her words hit me hard. I felt an immense need to protect her, to make sure she never felt unsafe again. And it pissed me off that no one had stepped up. "I hate that Dakota has made you feel unsafe," I told her, my voice low. "You deserve better."

She looked at me, her eyes softening. "I feel pretty safe right now," she said quietly.

We moved closer, the space between us shrinking with every second. I reached out and pulled her into me, pressing my lips to hers. The kiss made my blood overheat. I was consumed by her softness, the sweetness of her kiss, and how good it felt to hold her like this. Every ounce of anger that had consumed me all day evaporated. I was about to lead her to the sofa and show her just how I could take care of her when a loud beeping filled the apartment.

"Oh shit!" Marlow leaped back, cursing and rushing to her oven. She grabbed a hot pad and pulled open the door. Thin smoke came out.

I watched as she reached in and dropped a pan of bread on the counter. She quickly fanned it, trying to disperse the smoldering slices. I grabbed a hand towel and waved it in front of the alarm until it finally stopped screeching.

"Oops," she said with a small laugh. "I left it in to get a little crunchier. Looks like I succeeded."

"I would say so." I smiled. "I'm sorry I interrupted your dinner."

"Not at all," she said. "Have you eaten?"

"No." I shook my head. "I just rolled into town."

"Would you like to eat? I made lasagna. I have to say it's pretty good."

"It smells good," I said.

Truthfully, I was starving. Now that I knew she didn't hate me, the tension had drained from me, and my appetite roared with a vengeance. My eyes landed on the meal she prepared. It was still steaming on a white and blue patterned dish, the layers of pasta and cheese oozing together making my stomach growl.

I loved Italian food. It was easily my favorite. Anything that involved gooey cheese was at the top of my list. Marlow seemed to add some of the finishing touches I had eaten at her mother's kitchen table. The top was sprinkled with golden breadcrumbs, creating a crisp texture that I loved. There was a hint of green underneath the top layer, telling me she added spinach to the dish.

I nodded. "I would love a slice of your lasagna."

She smiled as she opened a cupboard and pulled out a plate. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Just the ones who put breadcrumbs on top."

She dished up a hearty serving. "I would offer bread, but…"

I grabbed one of the pieces that was only a little burnt. "Got a butter knife?" I asked.

She frowned but pulled open a drawer and handed me the knife. I started scraping the black charcoal off the bread into the sink.

Marlow laughed. "I have some sliced bread I can toast."

"This works," I told her. "This is totally salvageable."

"You seem like you've done this before," she teased.

"My mom was a horrible cook," I told her. "I got my cooking skills from her. When I was younger, I had the choice of eating the charred grilled cheese she liked to serve or going hungry. I found a way to get to the edible parts."

Marlow laughed and then stopped. "I'm sorry, that's not funny."

"It's a little funny." I smiled. "I mean, now. Back then, not so much."

"I guess I know why you were at our dinner table so often," she said softly.

"That's exactly why." I nodded and turned the bread over to scrape the backside. "Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed the company. But your mother is ten times the cook mine is."

"She takes pride in it. It's her love language." Marlow watched me with a soft smile on her lips.

"Is cooking your love language?" I asked, glancing over at her.

She blushed, her eyes flitting down to the lasagna. "I don't know about that. Sometimes I enjoy cooking, but I usually get so busy and don't have time. I try to make meals ahead, so I'm not tempted to eat pizza and burgers every night. Or more tempted, anyway."

With my bread scraped, we walked to the table where her dinner was already waiting. We sat down, the situation suddenly feeling very intimate.

"Oh, let me get you a glass of wine," she said. "Unless you'd like something else. I was just drinking chardonnay, but I can get a bottle of red."

"Chardonnay works fine," I said. "I'm not all about the pairing."

She quickly got me a glass and carried the bottle back to the table. When I showed up at her door, I was not expecting a gourmet meal hot and ready for me. All that was missing were some candles. The music she had going was perfect. It was as if the stress of the day faded away the instant I kissed her.

"Bon appétit," she said, picking up her fork.

I took a bite and then another, the flavors bursting in my mouth. "Mother of God, this is delicious." I grinned at her and shook my head. "You continue to amaze me, Marlow."

She smiled at the compliment, and her eyes lit up with pride. "Thank you. I'm glad you like it."

"Seriously, don't tell your mom, but I think this is better than hers."

She laughed. "Well, she did teach me everything I know. And I may have added a few of my own twists along the way. I like to think of myself as a foodie."

"I can tell, especially with the spinach. It's a nice touch," I said and stuffed another bite into my mouth.

Marlow beamed, clearly pleased with the praise. "Well, I made plenty, so eat up. You've more than earned it."

"How was work?" I asked.

She grinned, taking a drink of her wine. "Well, the rumors were fun. We have people that think you ran away with the circus and others believe you ran off with a woman. Oh, and there are plenty of people who think you quit."

I snorted. "Gotta love the rumor mill."

She nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, absolutely. Nothing like the water cooler gossip to keep things interesting. I think they had a pool going by the end of the day."

"Guess I should set the record straight before they start believing I've been abducted by aliens," I mused, taking another bite of the lasagna.

"Too late for that," she said with a laugh. "Copy Room Carl was certain you were on a spaceship to Pluto."

I chuckled. "Good old Carl. If anyone's from Pluto, it's him. He makes a hell of a clean copy though."

"I think you should let them all keep wondering. It's good for them."

I raised my glass to her. "To keeping them on their toes."

"I did have an interesting conversation today with a potential new client," she said.

"Oh?"

"One of Joshua's buddies," she said. "I quote, he wanted to talk to the ‘cool chick' and not one of the ‘stuffy old dicks.'"

"Wow. Ouch. I assume I'm one of the stuffy old dicks."

She laughed. "Sorry, but I think so."

"I just drove three hours to threaten a man," I said with a grin, taking another sip of wine. "That's not stuffy old dick behavior."

"Definitely not," she said.

"Oh well, I'd probably think the same if I were on the other side of that desk. And it's one of the reasons I wanted you on board."

Marlow chuckled, and for a moment, her gaze lingered on me. Her eyes were soft but playful, with a touch of the heat I had seen shortly after I arrived. "Just one of the reasons?" she asked.

I shrugged and met her gaze. "One of many."

We finished our meals and I was feeling an appetite for something else. I helped clear the table, watching as she carefully divided the rest of the lasagna into freezer-safe containers.

"Would you like to take some home?" she asked.

"Are you kicking me out right now?" I replied, my voice husky.

"No."

"Then yes I would," I said. "I'm all set for garlic bread, though."

"Oh, very funny." She whacked me on the arm and laughed. "I'll put it in the freezer, and when you do go, you can take it with you."

She gave me a quick smile and packed the lasagna away in her tidy freezer. I watched her, taking in every detail from the way she moved to the sound of her voice.

When she was done with the lasagna, Marlow rinsed her hands under the tap and asked, "Would you like dessert?"

I grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

She opened a cabinet and took out a glass jar filled with cookies. "Homemade oatmeal cookies," she said, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. "I made them yesterday."

"Oatmeal cookies?" I said, only slightly disappointed she hadn't meant sex. The oatmeal cookies looked really good. "You really are quite the cook, aren't you?"

Marlow laughed. "I try my best. It's just nice to have someone appreciative to share it with."

"I'm available any time you want to share," I said.

She grabbed some plates, placed three cookies on each, and put one in front of me. The aroma was tantalizing. It reminded me of the home I had always longed for when I was young, of warm kitchens and family gatherings.

I picked one up and took a bite, the sweet flavors dancing on my tongue. "Oh wow," I murmured as I savored the cookie.

She smirked at my reaction. "Good?"

"Better than good," I admitted, finishing the cookie in another bite.

"I'll take that as a compliment." She giggled, taking a small bite out of her own cookie.

She chewed thoughtfully, her gaze wandering to the window and the night sky beyond it. I found myself studying her profile, the way her lashes curled up, how the smile on her lips was so natural. It was so her.

I wanted more of these nights. She turned and caught me looking at her. There was no denying the heat bouncing between us. She slowly got to her feet, as did I.

The cookies would have to wait.