Page 28 of Property of Booker

I shake my head, watching the boy's face light up. He’s so desperate for a taste of a regular life that he’s practically trying to script our future. It’s sweet, in a reckless sort of way. I shift my gaze back to Booker, meeting his steady stare. There’s no trace of the hardened outlaw in his expression right now, just a quiet, patient warmth. “We’ll see,” I tell them both, though I know my heart has already decided. “Focus on the dishes for now.”

“I’m on it,” Kolter beams, swiping the towel across a bowl with way more effort than necessary.

Booker inches closer, his arm brushing against mine in a way that feels electric. “I like his initiative,” he murmurs, his voice barely a breath against my ear. “Maybe we actually do it.”

“What? Go out? You want to date me, Booker?”

“I want to do more than that, Vixen,” he purrs, using my screen name.

The air in the kitchen feels like it’s vibrating. I drop the towel on the counter, my fingers tingling where he brushed against me. Vixen. The name hits me square in the chest, dragging up memories I thought I’d buried under layers of survival and caution. Kolter looks from me to Booker, his head tilted like a curious puppy. “Vixen? That sounds like a cool codename. Are you a secret agent or something, Mom?”

I burst out laughing, the sound catching me off guard. It’s a ridiculous, wonderful release of all the tension I’ve been holding. “Not exactly, kiddo. Just a name from a life that doesn't exist anymore.”

Booker leans his hip against the counter, his eyes tracking every move I make. He looks like he’s decided he isn't going to back down. “I prefer to think of it as a name for a side of you that’s just waiting to come back out to play.”

My skin prickles under his heavy gaze. He’s pushing, and I’m definitely not pulling away. “You think you can handle that side of me?” I challenge, my voice dropping to a low, breathless whisper.

He reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my jaw. His touch is slow, deliberate, and entirely too distracting. “I think it’s only one of the sides of you I’m interested in. I want all of you, the woman behind the screen and the sexy woman standing in front of me.” Instinctively, I lift a hand and run my fingers through my tangled strands, realizing I must look like a bedraggled mess. How can he see me as sexy right now?

Kolter groans, rolling his eyes as he tosses the damp towel into the sink. “Seriously? You guys are being gross. Just go on the date so I can stop feeling like a third wheel.”

Booker laughs, his hand dropping to rest on my waist. The heat from his palm seeps right through my shirt, making my pulse jump. “You hear that? The kid’s giving us his blessing. Are you gonna say yes, or do I have to negotiate with you, too?”

I bite my lip, staring up at him. Everything feels possible right now. Everything feels like a new beginning. “I’m saying yes, Booker. I’m definitely saying yes.”

Booker pulls back just enough to look at me. “Okay. If we're really doing this, we need a plan for the boy.”

“I'm not a baby,” Kolter chirps, though he's beaming. “I can hang out with Slayer. He said he’d show me his bike later anyway, and I can play games with Shade. It's not a big deal. Please, Mom, just go.”

I look up at Booker, still seeking his reassurance. “Are you sure that's safe?”

Booker nods. “Slayer will keep an eye on him. I trust him with my life, and he's good with the kid. Besides, there's always someone on guard duty around here. I’ll give him a call and see if Kolter can hang out with him, Jersey, Carolina, and Boston.”

“So where are we going?” I ask, my stomach doing a nervous flip that has nothing to do with fear.

Booker leans against the counter, his eyes dark and focused. “There's that small diner on the outskirts of town. It's quiet, private, and the food is decent. No one's gonna bother us there, and it's close enough to the clubhouse if anything happens.”

“But we just ate!” I argue, patting my stuffed belly. “There’s no way I could pack anymore food in here.”

Booker laughs, the sound deep and resonant in the small kitchen. He shakes his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Who said anything about a full meal? We can just grab coffee or maybe a slice of pie if you've got room. I'm not taking you out to watch you force down a burger, I just want to spend time with you.”

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, feeling a little silly for worrying about the menu. “Coffee and pie? That sounds dangerous.”

“It's risky business.” Booker grins, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear again. The motion is familiar now, and my skin hums where he touches me. “But I think we can handle it.”

Kolter pipes up from the counter, his eyes darting between us. “You guys are impossible. Just go get the coffee already. You're wasting time.”

I turn to my son, shaking my head. “You're getting bold, kiddo.”

“I'm just realistic,” Kolter says with a shrug. For a child his age, his command of language is exceptional. It breaks my heart to think that being forced to grow up prematurely is the cause. “You two are acting just like a couple of teenagers.”

Booker chuckles, his hand dropping to the small of my back. “He’s right. Maybe we should stop talking and get moving before he decides to ground us for being too slow.”

“Fine,” I laugh, feeling a genuine excitement bubbling up. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone plan something just for me. “But I need to change my clothes and brush my hair first. Then we can get out of here before he changes his mind about being our wingman.”

“Slayer just answered, they’d love to have Kolter come hang out. While you’re changing, I’ll run him over there,” he tells me, leaning over and giving me a peck on the temple before swatting my ass and shoving me toward the hallway. “Go get beautified, woman.”

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