Page 56 of Empower

He shook his head, walked over to me, and pressed a kiss to my lips, then one on the top of my head, “Call me later.”

Then I watched his fine-assed self, walk out of my house.

***

Since Storm had been called to the clubhouse, I spent the morning cleaning my house and doing laundry.

The majority of the cleaning was all centered on the dog hair I had to get up. Shepherds shed a lot and then once you think you have it all, nope it tricks you.

I also spent the morning and midafternoon Christmas shopping; I hated waiting until the last minute for anything.

I made it home by four o’clock and was pulling into the driveway when Storm pulled in behind me. Not only did he pull out a duffle bag, but he also pulled out a few grocery bags.

“Do you need any help?” I asked.

He looked like he had his hands full.

I knew it was going to be a no without him telling me by the look he shot me.

So, I just hurried to the front door and unlocked it.

I held it open for him; he took the groceries to the kitchen and then came back into the living room.

“So, I ain’t trying to rush shit but would you mind if I washed my clothes here. I fucking hate using the shit at the clubhouse.” I could barely hold in my laugh at the disgust on his face.

“You know where the laundry room is.” I called to his retreating back and said, “Hey Storm, I’m not trying to rush things, but do you think you might wanna spend the night tonight?”

I stopped him dead in his tracks; he turned and said, “Are you sure?”

I looked at him with my straightest face and said, “No”.

He looked crestfallen. Oh my.

And at his look, I knew I couldn’t keep my grin in check; therefore, I didn’t even try, I said, “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you here Storm. And seeing as you’re mine, only seems right for you to start leaving some of your things here.”

His smile lit up the room. And I watched smile as it came at me, I was up in his arms, my hands circled his neck, and his lips crashed down on mine

After he threw his laundry in the washer he headed into the kitchen. I planted my ass on a barstool with a can of Dr. Pepper and watched my man cook.

What he made had my mouth watering.

He made fettuccine alfredo from scratch.

When I asked him where he learned to make it, he told me his grandmother.

Then he said something, and I wished more than anything, that I already had this man’s last name, “Wish she could have met you. She’d have loved you.”

“When did she pass away?” I asked as he dished out the plates and carried them to the living room.

From the living room, he called out, “When Raine was six months old. Cancer.”

“Fuck cancer,” I piped up.

He winked at me, as I passed him with forks, napkins, and our drinks.

Once we were settled, I started the movie. Terminator 2: Judgement Day.

“Storm, this looks and smells delicious. Thank you for making this.” I told him.