I can finally breathe easy. She said yes. I glance at the dress. It had all cost a pretty penny, and the necklace with its genuine pale blue diamonds had been difficult to find and secure. But it was worth it to see how her face is all lit up right now.

She pulls me into a hug and presses her lips to mine.

There’s desperation in her kiss, a need that I recognize and mirror. Our tongues meet and dance and I know she’s mine tonight.

Impatient, I pick her up and carry her to my room. I’ve been waiting for this for too long. I need her and I need her now.

Cindy is still asleep when I creep out of bed and pick up the phone. It’s eight am and I’m wide awake. And I have phone calls to make. She’s so very sweet as she sleeps and everything in me wants to get back into bed with her and sleep until all the problems in our lives work themselves out.

But that’s not going to happen.

So I leave her sleeping and walk out to the living room and dial my phone. “Victor here,” The male voice sounds like old, white privilege. Which is not an inaccurate description.

“Hey Vic. I’ve got an issue with a former employee,” I say as casually as I can.

I hear him take a quick breath on the other end and I know instantly he’s part of the issue in one way or another.

But I push on. “So, he was fired for theft. But when I reviewed the tapes of the day in question, I saw an issue.”

Silence.

“The date stamp on the tape didn’t match the date recorded on file. So I’m worried we’re open for possible liability on this,” I say, daring him to contradict me or try to bullshit his way out of this.

“It won’t be a problem,” he says finally and I hear the part he doesn’t say. The Handbergs are poor. They can’t afford to hire an attorney to fight for them against this.

“It is a problem,” I say. “I don’t take kindly to extortionists blaming those who can’t defend themselves.”

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating-”

“You’re fired. I’ve already made arrangements and your replacement will see to the changeover. Have a nice day.” I hang up and notice I’m shaking with rage. I text Gideon Pike. He’s already on his way over to confiscate the files with the off duty cops I’d asked for a favor.

Having friends in high places can come in handy. I’m fucking glad I donate huge chunks to the local PD, and I don’t call in favors frivolously.

With a sigh, I think about how much is changing. If not for Cindy, I would never have learned that several people I trusted were abusing that trust. If not for her, I wouldn’t have learned that I always need to pop in and do my due diligence at random to keep people honest. If not for her, I would have forgotten that sometimes even a wolf like myself can help the underdog.

“Gavin?”

I turn toward Cindy’s sleepy voice and see her standing, wrapped in the sheet, looking totally adorable and disheveled in the doorway.

“I’m here, love,” I say and she walks over.

She plops down on the couch and leans into me. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and we sit there, entwined in one another in silence for a little while.

“I was worried,” she says, her voice still thick with sleep, “when I woke up. I was worried it was all a dream. I still am.” She says, pressing her lips to my arm.

“I’m here. It’s not a dream,” I say, loving how groggy she is. “Are you still tired?” I ask and she nods. “It’s your day off, why don’t you relax?” I ask and she shakes her head.

“I’d like to actually help in the kitchen tonight,” she says, her voice stronger as if she’s waking up.

“I’ll come with you,” I say and she tilts her head to look up at me, her blue eyes dancing with joy.

“Really?” she asks and I nod. “That would be amazing,” she breathes and I kiss her forehead.

“You’re amazing. If you’re not going back to bed, I’m going to make breakfast.” She moves enough for me to get up and I head toward the kitchen, not at all feeling weird about being in boxers around the house. Everyone is off through the holidays, so we have the whole place to ourselves.

I move around, making bacon and eggs, toast and hash browns. While I cook, I wonder about the little things I don’t know about her. What’s her favorite way to have eggs? Does she love or hate onions? My experience is that no one is on the fence about onions; they love them or hate them.

How about things like eggs benedict? Love or hate? I make a mental list of questions to ask her. Because I’d like to know more about her. I want to know everything about her. Even the silly stuff. The stupid stuff. The things people don’t care about.

Because I care.

When she walks in, I strike up a conversation and ask her if she likes orange juice. And the rest is history.

We talk for hours. We eat and laugh, love and tease, hug and kiss.

I learn more about her than I’ve known about any other human being in my life. And I tell her a little about myself. She’s candid, honest, and kind. Everything that draws me to her comes back to how real she is. There are no pretenses. No lies. No trying to seem like more than she is. She knows what she is, who she is, what she stands for. But she’s willing to learn, grow, and shift her thoughts if someone provides a compelling argument.

She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known.

And I know I’m in deep fucking trouble.

Because I think I’m in love with her.