Rock Chick Revolution(118)

On that, I left.

And by the time I got in my car, I felt my throat burning. My eyes were hot and my hands were shaking.

Not from nerves or fear.

From emotion.

Because I honestly didn’t know which way any of them would swing.

I just knew I did not lie.

If they moved to shut me down, these people I loved I’d never forgive.

* * * * *

I opened the door to Ren’s place and smelled garlic.

What the hell?

I dumped my purse on an armchair and walked into the kitchen.

Ren was wearing jeans, a loose pale yellow shirt, sleeves rolled up, feet bare, and he was at the stove, a stove that held steaming pots and pans.

“What’s going on?” I asked and he turned to me.

“Kiss, Ally,” he ordered instead of telling me what was going on.

I walked to him, noting, “I thought we were going out.”

He again didn’t respond until I got close, put a hand to his abs and rolled up on my toes to touch my mouth to his.

When I rolled back but stayed close, he answered, “You didn’t wanna miss your show. I’m makin’ stuffed shells.”

Jeez.

I couldn’t take it.

Just when I thought my man couldn’t get any better, he did.

“We’ll go out tomorrow night,” he muttered.

I focused on him and saw his eyes were probing.

That was when, again, he got even better.

He did this by saying in his sweet voice, “The meet didn’t go well.”

He read me.

“Not really.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing to say. They don’t want me in the business. That’s not a surprise. Now they have a decision to make because I already made mine.”

He nodded, read me again and did what I needed.

He let it go.

“You want me to turn on the sauna?” he asked.

That sounded awesome, but if I was in there, I wanted to be in there with him. Not up there alone and him downstairs cooking.

“No, baby,” I murmured. “But thanks.”

“Then sit your ass on the counter. I’ll get you a glass of wine and you can keep me company while I put the shells together.”

That sounded better so I complied and Ren got me a glass of wine.

I sipped.

Ren worked.

When he was nearly done, I got off the counter and got on cleaning the pots, pans and utensils so later clean up would be a snap.

I heard the oven door close then I felt arms wrap around me from behind at the same time I felt Ren’s hard heat at my back and his mouth at my ear.

“They’ll come around,” he whispered there.

I closed my eyes, opened them and rinsed a pot.

I put it in the drainer, saying, “I hope so.”

He gave me a squeeze. “I know so.”

I turned off the faucet and twisted my neck to look at him. “How do you know?”

“Because they love you.”

I pressed my lips together and my eyes got hot again.

Then he again gave me what I needed. He bent, kissed my neck and lifted to catch my eyes.

“We’ll eat in front of the TV. I’ll go turn it on.”

I nodded.

He grinned and gave me a squeeze.

He went to turn on the TV, came back and refilled our wine glasses.

I put the last pot in the drainer and followed my man to the TV to veg out and await stuffed shells.

* * * * *

“Jesus,” Ren muttered, and I tore my eyes off Castle to lift my head from where it was resting on his chest seeing as we were both stretched out on the couch, Ren on his back, me tucked to his side between him and the couch.

“What?”

“Jesus,” he repeated, eyes glued to the TV.

He was making me miss it!

“What?” I snapped.

He lifted a hand that held the remote and paused the show.

Then he turned his head to me. “Do you watch this show because of that woman?”

I felt my brows draw together. “What woman?”

“The brunette who’s the spittin’ image of you.”

What was he talking about?

“Do you mean Stana Katic?” I asked.

“I don’t know her name. The tall knockout brunette.”

Jeez. Did he think I looked like Stana Katic, otherwise known as the most beautiful woman on American television today?

“You think I look like Kate Beckett?” I asked.

“Who’s Kate Beckett?” he asked back.

“Stana Katic. She plays Detective Kate Beckett, Castle’s partner on the show. Or, more accurately, Castle’s her partner,” I informed him.

“Then no. If she’s the gorgeous, bossy, badass homicide detective I just watched for the last five minutes, I don’t think you look like her. I think she’s the spittin’ image of you.”

Wow.

Cool!

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Babe,” he muttered, his eyes wandering back to the TV where Beckett was paused having a conversation with Castle, “f*ck me, definitely seriously.”

This.

Was.

Awesome.

I didn’t share I felt that, nor did I tell him that wasn’t the reason I watched Castle (though it was part of it; Kate Beckett was the freaking bomb).