A warm feeling of comfort washed over me as I stretched my limbs. I woke in Dawson’s arms, one of my favorite ways to wake up, the heat of his body delicious and satisfying. Turning on my stomach, I reached out and caressed his bare chest, a grin creeping over my face as he stirred. He didn’t open his eyes yet and I looked around, letting the joy of having him in my bed sink in a little more. He was perfect, and I loved him.

 

He snuck in last night, after Ginger and I had fallen asleep in the living room watching television. His soft lips had pleasently awoken me, and just the memory made me shiver in delight. Silently, I’d nodded as he carried Ginger to the guest room, where I placed stuffed animals all around her so she could sleep comfortably. Then, we had retired to my room in a hurry, as if the short time apart was too much to bear, and made love slowly, reveling in each other as if it was our first time.

 

For early on a Monday morning, everything seemed beautiful, and I almost wanted to close my eyes and go back to sleep. I traced my fingers over his tattoos, following the intricate lines that came together in a motorcycle made of vines, bones, and dark fire. I marveled at how dangerous he must’ve looked, how terrified people might be to walk past him, no one actually knowing the kindness beneath or the sweetness he exuded when he was with people he loved.

 

The reality set in. He was, indeed, dangerous, and people rightfully feared him. He was coming to get them, extort undeserved money, a thousand times over what they had borrowed from the Valves. He was a gangster.

 

Yes, he was a criminal, but he wanted out. His love of motorcycles didn’t extend to the gang, or the criminal activity. And he was working hard to sever ties amicably. He had Ginger to care for at the end of the day.

 

I sighed and found myself wishing people around us wouldn’t be so quick to judge him so harshly. But then, I judged him, too. I had typical feminine worries, like being first in his life. But my worries were light compared to the issues he faced daily. So, why couldn’t he take the support I offered him? Why couldn’t he allow me to be there for him, to be his shoulder to cry on? I only asked to lessen his burden by sharing it. And in return, I only wanted the certainty of a stable relationship. I didn’t understand why I could never stay at his place without planning ahead. And I couldn’t be there when he wasn’t around. When I asked, he just told me to trust him.

 

I did, but I needed him to replenish my reassurance. A heavier sigh escaped my lips as I lay my head on his broad chest.

 

“What is it?” I heard him ask.

 

I lifted my head and felt his welcoming kiss on my forehead. “Nothing.” I couldn’t start a conversation like this.

 

He raised his head to look me in the eyes, and then he rolled on top of me and kissed my lips. “What time is it?” he grumbled, trailing kisses down my neck.

 

“Time for me to go to the bathroom,” I replied, my urge to go sudden. He laughed, and pulled me into an even closer embrace but I insisted, “I’m serious! I need to go. Now.”

 

“Okay. Go.” He rolled to his back again with a disappointed look, and I ran.

 

As I relieved myself, I decided to gather my wits and clear things up once and for all. He said he could focus on himself until business with the Valves completely came to an end. I wanted to present all the arguments and show him I couldn’t think of him, if he would let me.

 

I brushed my teeth and rinsed my face with cold water, and I finished with some tonic lotion. Then, I stepped out with determination to find a way to start the discussion. But the bed was empty, and there was no sign of Dawson in the bedroom. From the hall, I smelled fresh coffee. He was taking his breakfast chef job seriously. I reached the kitchen with a wide grin, looking forward to his pancake magic. Ginger and I could eat this breakfast every day, and it would never get old.

 

I went straight for the coffee, pouring myself a cup as I watched Dawson prepare the batter with infinite care.

 

“What?” he asked, catching my feline grin.

 

I shrugged. “You’re an awesome dad, Dawson.

 

“Why, thank you, Miss Bennett. You’re generous today. But you haven’t told me what’s on your mind.”

 

I liked him fussing over the smallest sign I was upset. He had a way of knowing what I was thinking, and I always wondered if this was everything that every woman wanted. No need to spell it out – he would just look at me and find his way into my head. And my heart. But this was one of the few occasions when things needed to be spoken aloud, if I ever got up the nerve.

 

“What?” He tilted his head, drawing out the word in a mocking insistent tone.

 

It eased my tension a bit, and I cleared my throat. “I met one of our neighbors a couple days ago.”

 

“Uh-huh.” I watched his back moving, the muscles fashioned from some godly template.

 

“She helped me with groceries.”

 

“Nice of her,” he commented, carefully shaping the pancakes into various animals for Ginger.

 

“Yes.” I paused. “She…we talked.”

 

“What did she say?” His tone changed, harsher and a bit concerned. His magic was at work. He had an idea of what transpired between us.

 

“She insinuated that, by shopping alone, I could’ve needed a helpful hand with the bags. A male hand, and…”

 

“And that I’m a bastard for not being there,” he finished, cutting me off. “And you should divorce me immediately.”

 

I’d been staring at the ground, choosing my words carefully. Now, I looked up to see what he meant. His eyes flickered with a glint of amusement, and a cascade of laughter followed at the confusion etched on my face. It was infections, and I smiled, too. “Something like that.”

 

“That’s what was bothering you, baby? That was the reason for the frown on your pretty face?” He walked over and touched his long fingers to my lips.

 

I felt stupid for worrying about something so menial. I started to say it was nothing, but he must have decided we’d talked enough. In a swift move, he reached under my arms and started tickling me. He didn’t know I was sensitive, and I was shocked by his playfulness. Maybe the shock delayed my reaction, but soon I was on the verge of collapsing, and I jerked back. He pulled away, watching my reaction, and I scrambled a few steps back. But he took it as a sign to keep playing and reached again, barely containing his laughter.

 

“No!” I screamed, running in a panic. “I can’t be tickled. No!”

 

“Ooh, I didn’t know you were so sensitive!” He leapt after me, forcing me to keep running.

 

I tried to weave between furniture, making an obstacle course of every chair and coat hanger in my way. At first, I was too busy trying to escape his hands, but soon I couldn’t stop laughing, running through the house and screaming when he seemed to get dangerously close.

 

I felt like a teenager, a surge of energy coursing through me when I met his dark eyes. He laughed, too, sincere happiness between to people in love, no barriers. The rest was just a bunch of minute details, meaningless in the grand scheme of things, tiny in comparison to the perfection of this moment.

 

Our chase woke Ginger, and she stood in front of the guest room door, rubbing tiny fists in her sleepy eyes. I skidded to a halt to avoid a collision, and Dawson took advantage of the moment, catching up and wrapping his arms tightly around me, laughing loudly.

 

“Daddy?”

 

“Yes, baby?”

 

“I think you’re burning my pancakes.”

 

A split second of silence passed before Dawson and I burst into convulsive laughter. I had to lean on the door frame with the force of my amusement, and I heard Dawson in the kitchen, hurrying to save the pancakes. I got a grip and turned to Ginger, seeing her puzzled expression mixed with a bit of a pout. It was hilarious under the circumstances, and I had another fit of laughter.

 

It took several minutes to regain composure and lift Ginger into my arms. I walked to the kitchen, my cheeks aching from the laughter, and I placed her on a chair while I went for water. I opened the fridge and glanced at Dawson, delighted at the happiness dancing in his eyes. I shared it. This was why I loved him so much. He made me happy, lifted my spirits at the right times, and always turned my frown around. And he did it all with ease and honest, pure love.

 

I was on Cloud Nine and wanted with every ounce of my being to stay there.