He slid her closer on the picnic bench until she was pressed up against his side. “Just don’t call me sweet in front of my family. My brothers will never let me live it down.” He kissed her and showed her hownotsweet he could be.
Face flushed, looking a bit dazed, she said, “Your secret is safe with me. Besides, I think you only show the sweet side to me, and I like that. Makes me feel special.”
He brushed a lock of hair away from her gorgeous green eyes. “You are special.”
Bran was happy for the first time in…he couldn’t remember how long.
Even his job was going well, now that Ireland had saved his ass. This was his first day since he’d taken over the restaurants at Club Tahoe where everything had run perfectly. After a year of working fourteen-hour days, he finally had a handle on things. And now he had a woman in his life he never wanted to lose. Not if he could help it.
They finished their food and made their way inside the furniture store before it closed.
Bran had talked to Ireland on the drive over about what he should buy. They both agreed a couch was the first order of business, followed by a dining table and chairs, and a dresser for his bedroom.
Bran would have been happy picking the first couch that fit his tall frame, but Ireland dragged him around the store, listening to the salesperson extol the virtues of each one. Whether or not the cushions were wrapped in down, contained springs…in the end, he nodded and read Ireland’s body language as to which one he should choose.
“The better-quality ones cost more, but will last longer,” Ireland said once the salesperson had given them a moment to consider their options. “What works for your budget?”
If she only knew. Bran hadn’t looked at his trust fund in years, but the last time he did, there was enough money to sustain a family of four for a lifetime in extravagant comfort. “No budget. Just find one you like.”
“You want me to choose?” She seemed surprised.
Didn’t she know how this worked? Bran didn’t care which couch he bought, as long as she was comfortable in his home. So she’d come over more. And stay the night. And watch movies with him. And beautify his place with her presence.
He shrugged. “I trust your judgment. But, pick one that fits me. There’s nothing worse than a tall man on a small couch.”
She giggled, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Bran hated shopping, but this wasn’t so bad. Ireland smelled good, and she was charming the salesperson, who’d already offered a fifteen percent discount on any couch they purchased today.
Ireland selected one with soft brown leather that didn’t feel cold to the touch.
He sat on it and decided it fit his frame. He neither sank too far down, nor felt like he was sitting on stone.
He crooked his finger at Ireland, and she sat beside him.
Bran put his arm around her shoulders, getting a feel for things. “This works,” he said, but mentally, he was calculating if they could comfortably have sex on the new couch.
They could. And now he was thinking of all the positions they might test out. “Sold,” he said before someone below his waist rose to the occasion.
Ireland picked out a dining table with cushioned chairs, along with a dresser and bedside tables she called “transitional with a rustic flair,” whatever that meant. The furniture was wood. It looked nice. That was all Bran needed to know before he threw down his credit card.
The salesperson charged him for the purchases with a promise to have the couch delivered in a few days. The rest of the pieces would be delivered as soon as they arrived from the warehouse, which would take two to four weeks.
It was a bit of a downer to have to wait that long after he’d finally decided to furnish his house. But Ireland said they could pick up lamps and other items that would make the place more comfortable, and Bran had mentally tacked on a new coffeemaker to the list. Which cheered him up tremendously.
He was going high-end on the coffeemaker, with a pre-soak grounds feature, altitude adjustment—the full deal. He’d research it all. But not tonight. Tonight he had plans with Ireland and the one piece of furniture he owned.
They made their way to his truck, and Bran looked at his girl.
She blinked. “What are you thinking about?”
He opened the passenger door. “You. And my bed.”
She grinned, and he walked around the truck and let himself in.
“What about me and your bed?” she said coyly.
“I was thinking how nice it was to wake up to you this morning.”
“That’s all?”
