“Okay. Give CJ a hug from Aunt Emma. See you in the morning.” She lays her phone on the table and reaches for her glass of wine. “Thank you for this.” She holds it up before taking a drink. “Sorry about that. She wanted an update on Buckwheat.”
“I get it. I hope he’s okay.”
There is sadness in her eyes. “Me too. If this doesn’t work, if he doesn’t respond to treatments, we’ll have to have him put down.” Her voice cracks.
“Think positive.”
She nods. “This is amazing by the way.”
“Good. Eat up. We have plans after dinner.”
“Landon, I really just want to chill.” Her shoulders slump as if she’s disappointed she has something else added to her plans tonight.
“Good. That’s exactly what we’re doing. So, eat up.”
A slow smile tilts her lips. “I love you.” Her words are soft, but the meaning no less powerful.
Leaning over the table, I kiss her. “I love you too.”
Chapter 23
Emma
“Go relax on the couch while I clean up.”
“I can help.” I stand from the table to gather my plate, but his hand over mine stops me.
“I’ve got this, Em. Now, go sit.”
I do as he says because I’m mentally exhausted and I know Landon. He’s not going to let me help. Wasting time arguing about it is not going to do either of us any good. A few minutes later, he’s holding out his hand for me.
“The leftovers are in the fridge. You’re staying here while I’m gone, right?”
“Yeah, unless you don’t want me to?”
“I want you here.” His voice is firm, his decision final. Not that I expected anything different.
“Good. You can have them while I’m gone. I made a small bowl for you to take in your lunch tomorrow.”
“Landon Barker, if your fans could see you now. Being all domesticated, making my lunch.”
“Yeah? You think that would help my image?”
“I don’t think you need any help in that department, Number Eighteen.”
“Hey, you did dub me the lucky bastard after all,” he taunts.
“Well, aren’t you? You are here with me right now,” I tease.
“Damn right I am,” he agrees. He pushes open his bedroom door and doesn’t stop until we’re in the bathroom. “Strip, baby.” His voice is soft yet husky. He reaches down into the huge clawfoot tub and turns on the water.
“You’re running me a bath?” I ask, my heart melting into a puddle at my feet.
“I’m running us a bath,” he corrects, pulling his T-shirt over his head and letting it fall to the floor.
Before I know it, we’re both stripped naked and Landon steps into the tub, holding his hand out for me. I step in after him. He settles himself, resting against the back of the tub. “Sit,” he says, opening his legs for me to join him. I waste no time sitting down and leaning against his chest. The hot water lulls over us, and his arms wrap around me.
“How did you know this is what I needed?”
“A bath?”
“No. You.”
“Because I need this time with you too. I hate leaving you when we have away games.”
“I know, but the season is halfway over. We’ve almost made it.”
“Yeah, can you get time off work? Maybe we can take a trip once the season is over? Somewhere tropical where I get to see you in tiny scraps of material all day long.”
“I don’t really do that out in public.”
“Hell no, I’m talking private beach. No way am I letting another man ogle you. Hell, to be honest, we don’t even need swimwear. Let’s just lie naked in bed all day.”
“You really think you could do that? Spend a week just lying in bed.”
“Ah, but you missed a key point. Two of them in fact.”
“What’s that?”
“I said naked with you.”
I laugh. “So, do you think you and I could be naked in bed for a week?”
“Yes.” No hesitation in his answer.
“Really? You wouldn’t get bored?”
“Not if I’m with you.”
“Aw, you’re such a sweet talker tonight.” Come to think of it, he’s acting kind of strange. I turn to look at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just dreading leaving you. It gets harder with every trip.”
“You sure that’s all it is?”
He nods. “Some stuff I need to talk to Coach about, about my contract, but nothing to be worried about. Just a lot on my mind.”
“What time does your flight leave tomorrow?”
“Nine. So I’ll be up and gone before you leave for work.”
“Why so soon?”
“Not sure. The time we fly out always varies. It just depends on the chartered plane and the pilot’s schedules.”
“Makes sense I guess. I couldn’t imagine having to coordinate all those schedules.”
“What are you going to do while I’m gone?”
“Work. I need to do some laundry, so I’ll go to my place for a while. Depending on what’s going on with Buckwheat….” My voice trails off. I can’t imagine having to put him down. I pray that this medication does what it’s supposed to do.