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“So how do we make this thing between us stay slow when Tweedledee and Tweedledum, aka my sister and bestie, and their mates will probably start planning a celebration?” Stephanie asked him.
Blue shrugged. “We tell our friends we're going slow. They're not assholes.” He considered. “Okay. Jace is an asshole some of the time, but he'll still listen to us if we say something.”
“Ugh. We have to talk, and use words, and everything?”
“I know. How rude.”
This time when they smiled at each other, the amusement in her eyes was real.
“I got it. We’ll tell them we’re M-I-Ts.” He winked. “Mates in training.”
A solid snort escaped her, and she lifted a hand and covered her nose. “Stacy will ask which of us is the right mitt and which the left.”
“Del will make some crack about us having matching toques.”
“Cassidy will try to come up with an acronym for toque that’s dirty.”
They were so focused on each other that a knock on the window beside Blue’s head nearly had him levitating out of his seat.
He whirled in place to discover Marvin the moose had pressed his big nose to the pane, wide rack looming overhead. “Hey, back up, buster.”
The moose shrugged then lazily turned away, sauntering down the road toward the trees.
“And I guess that’s our cue that it’s time for the next thing.” Stephanie was the one to reach for his hand. “Blue, just so you know, nothing is set in stone right now, and nothing is simple. But this part I can say; I like you, and I want to be with you as much as it works.”
Which wasn’t a full-on bite me, mark me, make me yours declaration, but for now?
It was enough.
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