Page 91 of Shadow Burn

His eyebrows rose. “That sounds serious.”

“It is. This new partnership gives you full veto power on future decisions involving bullets, federal conspiracies, unauthorized meetings at service gates, and any situation in which I’m tempted to interpret ‘stay put’ as a flexible suggestion.”

A laugh broke out of him before he could stop it. The sound felt rusty but good. “You didn’t accept my veto when you left.”

She held up one finger. “Actually, I did. That’s why I’m here. I needed time to sort through what I felt for you. I had to be sure it was more than appreciation for you saving my life. I’ll never stop being grateful, but what I feel for you goes way beyond that.”

His chest loosened. “It does?”

She pulled a pen from her bag. “Yes, and that’s why I need a formal agreement.”

He glanced at the paper again. “I thought you said this was a contract.”

“It is.”

“This section says, ‘Party A agrees to provide strategic concern, emergency backup, emotional accountability, and coffee as needed.’”

“That’s you.”

“Party B agrees to disclose threats before walking into them.”

“That’s me.”

“Party B also agrees that cats are not to be used as tactical intermediaries without mutual consent.”

Her smile grew. “Priss insisted on that clause.”

Jasper shook his head, but his vision had gone annoyingly blurry. “There’s a lot of fine print.”

“I’m an archivist. Read carefully.”

He took the pen from her hand and signed at the bottom without looking at another line.

Katherine’s mouth fell open. “You didn’t read it.”

“I trust you.”

Her expression changed so quickly it almost broke him. Surprise first. Then tenderness. Then the kind of emotion she usually tried to hide before anyone could see it.

“There,” he said, handing the paper back. “File that carefully in your archive, Ms. Townsend.”

She looked down at his signature, then back up at him. “You just agreed to provide me with your premium package for the rest of my life.”

He stepped closer and slid one hand around her waist. “I told you that you already had lifetime coverage.”

“I needed it in writing.”

“Of course you did.”

Her fingers curled around the front of his shirt. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” He bent his head until his mouth hovered over hers. “I like knowing exactly what I’ve signed up for.”

“And?”

He kissed her, slow and deep, taking his time because there was no gate closing between them now, no convoy waiting, no federal agent at the door telling her it was time.

She’d chosen this. Chosen him. Not because fear had driven either of them across the country, but because certainty had finally caught up with love.