“Why?” He frowns, and I shrug.
“I don’t know. I mean, I got my car back.”
“So?” He takes his gloves off, and my eyes drop to the box at his feet.
“What’s this?” I lean the broom against a drawer and walk toward him.
“This, my beautiful angel, is stuff for your toy drive.”
“For the…” I reach the box and look down at it.
“Now, I don’t know what teenagers might like, but hopefully, the shit I found isn’t too babyish.” He keeps talking, but all I can do is stare at the contents in the box. Headphones, water bottles, hoodies. In all colors and sizes. Along with a couple of tablets and e-readers. Everything inside, plus the donations from my sisters-in-law, will be more than enough for the teenagers in our little mountain town. My eyes start to burn, and my nose stings with unshed tears.
“Shit! Did I mess it up? Are they not the kinds of things—" My hand rises, the box still between us as I rest it at his heart. “I can get something else,” he offers, but I shake my head. “Angel?”
“This is perfect. You’re just…” I lick my lips. “Thank you.”
“Why are you crying?” he strains, sliding the box out of the way and wrapping his arms around me. I love the feel of his body against mine. I never thought someone could become addicted to someone else, but I realize just how wrong I was. It’s morethan possible. The thought of Jacob never holding me again breaks my heart.
“Because I’m happy.” I sniffle.
“Because you’re happy?” His eyes widen before his dark brows bunch, and his hazel gaze settles on mine. “You smile or laugh when you’re happy, baby girl. No crying, Jacob orders like his word is law. It makes my lips twitch upward. It’s cute he thinks it’s that easy.
“Thank you, Jacob,” I whisper, the appreciation clear in my voice. The pads of his thumbs wipe away the moisture at the ends of my eyes. “This is so much more than you needed to do.”
“If it’s something less for you to worry about, I’m happy to do it.” The words are honest and so damn beautiful because I know he means it. I can see a lifetime of him doing that. Of me doing that for him. Of us being a team. Of him being mine.
“Jacob,” I say when I want to call him something else. Something I don’t fully understand but know I will in time.
“Anything, baby girl,” he rasps, and the air around us changes. It’s warmer, sweeter, while it sparks and sparkles between us in our little happy bubble.
“There is one thing you could do for me,” I softly say. My heart starts to pick up speed. Can I really do it? Can I really be bold and ask for what I want?
“What’s that, baby girl?” he asks, like I knew he would. His hands drop from my face and move down my torso to rest at my waist. “Anything. All you have to do is ask.” I know he means it.
My hands slide up his chest, and I don’t miss the way his body reacts to my touch. He trembles, and his hands at my hips grip me with a little more pressure.
“Anything?” I breathe out, lifting myself up on the tips of my toes. His face dips lower. When I smile, I can feel his exhaled breath tickle my lips.
“Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
“Can I cut your hair?” He stills before his deep, rough laughter fills the salon. The sight of Jacob laughing wholeheartedly is beautiful. The sound is rich and fills my soul in more ways than I could ever try to explain. “Please, Daddy?” I find myself asking.
I wait for a beat to wince or regret saying the word, but remorse never comes. Not when it fits him so well. Not when whatever is going to happen between Jacob and me is inevitable.
We’re meant to be.
His laughter dies, and I watch as he processes what I just said. “Eden.” My name sounds scratchy, but I’ve never loved the sound of my name more. “No one else I would let touch my hair but baby girl,” he answers, and I blush.
I step back but grab his hand. Before leading him to my station, I head to the front door and lock it to make sure we’re not interrupted.
7
JACOB
She leads me to her station, where I take a seat. I watch as she moves around the salon, quietly shutting the blinds. I try to calm my cock down, but the fucker won’t chill the hell out. He’s hard and aching. My balls drawn up tight.
She called meDaddy.
