Page 155 of Jonesing for a Spy

“It’s a good thing you’re mine,” I say, sliding under the covers.

His head turns my way. “And why’s that?” He kisses my forehead as I settle into his chest.

“All this does it for me. And I can have you anytime I want.” I trail a finger over his arm and plant a kiss to his pec.

“And do you want me now?”

“Always,” I yawn.

“Yeah, nothing says ‘you’re in the mood’ quite like yawning. Get some sleep, Freckles. I’ll be here in the morning. And every morning after that.”

And he will. His sister, Lorien, has found some hopeful breakthroughs in autoimmune research and on some twist-of-fate is now the head of the lab doing the research. If anyone has the smarts, it’s her. If anyone has the desire… well, we’ll call that fifty-fifty. But that woman loves her big brother and has basically dedicated her life to curing him.

For the first time since those terrible bruises faded in December, I’m not just hopeful, I know that a cure is on the horizon.

“I’m holding you to that, handsome. But in the morning?”

“Yeah?” He slides his glasses off and places them on the nightstand before turning off the lamp.

“I want it hard and rough.”

He growls.

And I smile the most contented smile of my life.

Never in a million years, would I have assumed I would meet my match in every way in a man whose chest I tumbled into on the hopes of not being made on an op. But sometimes, as luck would have it, we get exactly what we need when we aren’t looking for it.

I didn’t know I needed Strider Anderson. Or his sweet smiles, his phenomenal body, his delicious cooking, or the even more delicious sex.

I couldn’t know that he would be everything I could want and everything I didn’t know I’d need.

But here he is, making my life a fairy tale…

… The spy who comes home to a gorgeous man and his slutty little glasses.

love and garlic

epilogue

Mirren

July

“I know we have a big to-do Saturday evening at Zipper’s for your birthday, but can I take you to lunch tomorrow as a pre-celebration?”

“You never have to ask, Freckles. I’d love to.” Strider says, looking up from his desk.

Running Electric Peoria from here isn’t ideal. He’s made a trip back to Illinois at least once a month since December. It’s been an easier transition on Jim and Diane. It also means he comes home each time with cookies Diane’s made for us, with a recipe card tucked inside so I can keep her son in the sugary treats.

If I dared to bake even once a month, we’d be flush with cookies way too often. While I’m running again, slowly and only for short distances, my body’s changing. Everything got softer December through March, and while my body knows what to do and how to spring back, everything seems to be working against me, including the aforementioned cookies.

I head toward the kitchen island and pull the trigger on my plans, setting in motion what I schemed up for his birthday surprise.

The agency put me on a desk job in December “for the foreseeable future.” It was helpful for my rehab and gave me a ton of flexibility working from home. It was also the slap on the wrist I expected.

I managed to keep Nate out of everything. No one knows he helped me, much to his disappointment. He says it was some of his best work, and it’s gauche of me to take credit. Gauche is saving his ass, so he can kiss mine.

But now seven months in, I’m antsy, even if I’m not dying to get back out into the thick of it. I understand Mom more and more.