She just stared at him like an idiot. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, how long will it take you to get packed? I bought a midsized SUV this morning and it’s already loaded. I hope you pack light—there’s not much space left.”
She felt fury and confusion bubble up. “And why should I be packing at all? Where do you think I’d want to go?”
“I figured we’d check out Oregon first—Remy said you had an interest in seeing it. If that doesn’t work, we’ll try other places until we find something that feels right.”
She felt dizzy, like Alice down the rabbit hole. “Why in God’s name do you think I would go anywhere with you?” Her voice had risen just a bit, and she wondered how many people were out there with their ears to the door. Probably none—the entire house had a better surveillance system than Archer’s, and they were probably all upstairs watching on the closed-circuit TV.
“Because you love me,” he said impatiently. “Remember?”
“I remember. I got over it.” She was cold, shaking, but she wasn’t going to let him see it.
His smile was absolutely dazzling, a smile she’d never seen from him before. “No, you didn’t. But I got over my severe case of head up my ass and came back to get you because whether I like it or not, I love you too. Now get packed. I want to get out of town before they start another damned parade.”
For a moment she didn’t move. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t. This was just a game, a way to toy with her . . . But he wasn’t Archer. He was Mal, and he was absolutely serious, despite the unexpected, lighthearted expression in his face. “And you expect me to come with you, just like that?” she said in a dangerous voice, afraid to believe him, afraid to love him, suddenly afraid of everything when she’d always been fearless.
“Just like that,” he agreed in a soft voice.
Now he was showing her sweetness. Now he was opening up when she had to go through his death for that dubious pleasure. Where was her gun when she needed it? she thought, trying to summon her rage. She’d been so miserable, for so long, and none of it had been necessary if he actually loved her.
The
gun was where it belonged, locked up and out of the way. She looked at the man she loved. “You’re a rat bastard,” she said in a shaky voice that sounded suspiciously like love.
“I’m the one who told you that.”
“So you did.” She took a step, coming right up to him, then reached up and grabbed his long hair in her fist, yanking his head down so that she could put her mouth against his in a rough, claiming kiss. He kissed her back, and her entire body was humming with it, with love and lust and joy and fear. She could do this. She could love him. She didn’t have to be afraid.
When she finally pulled back he was grinning at her. “Running out of time here, sweetheart,” he said.
“It’ll take me five minutes,” she said, knowing she had stupid tears in her eyes. “Don’t leave without me.”
“Never,” he said. And she believed him.