“How you doing there, chef?”
“Damn vegetables,” he said while almost slicing off his finger. “Who the hell needs roughage anyway? Do I look like a damn rabbit?”
“No, you look like a madman. And I think the last thing we need in your hand is a knife,” she said, nudging him aside.
“Ah, c’mon, now,” Chester grumbled good-naturedly. “I’m a pu**ycat.”
“Tell that to this pepper,” A.J. said, picking up the gnarled carcass. “It looks like it’s been in an accident.”
Before long, they were all sitting down at the table. The food was good but A.J. didn’t really taste it. She was too preoccupied with what awaited on the other side of the meal and Devlin’s eyes flashing across the table egged on her impatience, making her wish dinner was over before it started.
Seemingly oblivious of the undercurrents around him, Chester prattled along, keeping up the conversation by himself. When he wasn’t talking, he was lingering over each mouthful, pausing to savor his meal in a way his two companions had never seen him do before.
By the time the man cleared his plate, after his third helping, he thought the other two were so itchy they looked like a pair of kids in church. A.J. was pushing a bit of meat loaf around her plate like it was a soccer ball, and Devlin was stacking and unstacking the salt and pepper shakers with an urgency Chester found highly amusing.
The groom smiled broadly, an expression they both missed.
“That was a good meal,” he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his meager stomach, satisfied with the angst he was stirring up.
“Yes, it was,” Devlin blurted, getting to his feet like there was something on fire in the oven. A.J. leapt out of her chair, picking up plates from the table in a frenzy.
“What, no dessert?” Chester asked.
“Here,” Devlin said, wheeling around and opening the freezer door. He tossed an ice-cream sandwich across the room with an air of desperation.
“Maybe I’ll just help with the cleanup,” the groom drawled while he unwrapped the paper carefully.
“Wouldn’t hear of it,” Devlin told him.
“You’re a guest,” A.J. said, picking up Chester’s plate.
“So are you,” the man quipped. After he polished off the dessert, he began folding his napkin with the precision of an engineer. “I should probably pitch in somehow—”
“No!” they both said, freezing over the sink.
Before the chorus of denials continued into another refrain, Chester laughed out loud. When his jacket materialized in front of him and he was bid a sturdy good night, he felt like he’d been bootlicked through a doggie door, but didn’t mind. He’d had enough fun at their expense for one night.
As the man stepped out into the cold air, he paused to zip up his jacket. When he turned around and glanced back at the house, he saw through the window that Devlin and A.J. were entwined in an embrace, oblivious of the world.
His smile as he turned away was one of approval. Devlin was looking more and more like his old self. And that girl, well, she was pretty as a picture and had the stuffing to take him on. It was a good match, he decided.
Betcha those dishes won’t be done till the morrow, he thought.
9
IT WAS a week later that A.J. rolled over in Devlin’s bed and realized she was in love with him. Coming out of a wistful dream, something about riding Sabbath through Virginia’s best hunt country, she felt very male arms wrapped around her and the cushion of a sturdy chest against her back. She turned over slowly, careful not to wake him.
In the gray light of the early-morning hour, his face was a study in strong shadows, from the hollows in his cheeks and the deep sockets of his eyes to the arching iron of his jaw. He was beautiful, a sublime model of masculine form, a living, breathing dream.
And with the deepest, most feminine part of herself, she knew he was hers. Just as she was his. Their hearts and minds had come together. They’d become so close, she wasn’t sure where he left off and she took over and she didn’t care about her lost individuality. She was half of herself without him, more than her whole with him.
A.J. put her lips against his throat, over the thick vein that pounded with the beat of his heart. Against his surging blood, she whispered, “I love you.”
It was the first time she’d ever said the words to a man.
This realization made the statement seem even more powerful.
When it came to men, she’d never given herself easily. There had been a few boyfriends in college, but she’d been so focused on riding, the relationships had been brief and casual. The trend had continued as she’d turned professional. Before Devlin, men had always seemed an unnecessary complication in a life long on challenges and squat on time. But he was different. Her heart told her so.
Given her lack of experience with romance, she found the confidence with which she could say, “I love you,” surprising. In previous relationships, she’d never been able to return the sentiment. She hadn’t been sure what love was, only that she didn’t feel it. Now it was clear. What else was so thrilling, so frightening, so intoxicating, so precious, so overwhelming, as love?
Part of her wanted to nudge Devlin awake and break the news but she held back. She was assuming he felt the same way but she wasn’t sure. She was ready to make a commitment to him, to their future together as life partners and professional allies, but her newfound love for him made her vulnerable. She wanted him to make the declaration out loud first.
A.J. stretched, feeling her legs slide against Devlin’s. He groaned in his sleep and gathered her even closer to him, tucking her into his side. As his breathing returned to the soft, regular rhythm of deep sleep, she found herself smiling, despite her heavy thoughts. There were so many benefits to being with him. Aside from their sensual exploits in the night, sleeping in a real bed again was another bonus. She hadn’t quite lost the appreciation of having some space to move around in at night, even though Devlin tended to take up more than his fair share of the bed. The couch had been good enough for a short stay but there was real luxury in being able to stretch out without running the risk of rolling onto the carpet and winding up under a coffee table.
Her smile didn’t linger. With a painful lurch, her thoughts drifted to her father. His birthday was the following weekend. She was dreading the idea of going and wished she could bring Devlin with her.
He began kissing her neck. “What are you stewing about?”