Please don't stop taking care of me. Please keep being amazing. Please be my Daddy.
It was only all my years as a practiced lawyer—keeping my cool in the courtroom—that had me refraining. The little inside me revolted. That part of me that longed for a caretaker wantedto scream from the rooftops that this man was ours, that we should keep him and love him and do everything he says.
Simon must have sensed my inner turmoil because he dipped his head and then pulled the door closed behind him without another word.
What else was there to say? He had given me clothes and set forth a plan. Now I had to do what he said.
It was nice to not have to think—to merely move the way someone told me to.
My body worked on autopilot as I got up and got changed. When the clothes he'd loaned me came off, I frowned at the pile on my bed. While I understood they needed to be washed, I hated thinking that they would no longer be a mix of his scent and mine—that the single nicest thing anyone had done for me in years was going to be swept away.
After taking another long moment, I gathered them in my arms and opened the door.
I jolted when I saw Simon leaning across the hall, his hands in his pockets. The way he eyed me was possessive, if I had to pick one word for it. Was he happy to see me in casual clothes, or was it because he picked them out for me, both at the store and here on the ranch?
The thought made me shiver.
"I'm ready," I forced out.
He grunted, not saying a word as he straightened and held his hands out for the clothes. When I placed them in his hands, he stayed longer than necessary, as if he wanted to soak up my touch too.
Once he had them bundled up, he reached for my hand like he had earlier. Honestly, there was no option of not returning the hold. There wasn't a single chance of me missing out on doing what he wanted—on doing what I wanted.
We made our way downstairs and thankfully the house was empty aside from Harlan doing food prep in the kitchen. He paid us no mind as we moved through and put the clothes in wash with the others.
As we moved to the front door, I winced because the cold could already be felt through the screen that Simon opened. And while I had a coat and shoes that would withstand the weather, I didn't have a hat or scarf or gloves—all the things that were pretty much mandatory this time of year.
"What do we have here?" Simon said, interrupting my thoughts.
I looked over to see him squatting down by the shoe rack with a brown wrapped package in hand. He turned it toward me. "It has your name on it."
I moved before I could even truly think it over. I took it from him and opened it up quickly, a smile on my face as I wondered what could be inside.
My Secret Santa, if that was who had gifted me earlier, was going above and beyond. They were doing too much, really. I still didn't know who the person I needed to buy for was, and if it wasn't the person buying for me, well then things would be unbalanced.
The rational part of my brain said that wasn't fair, that it needed to be more even. The little in me rejoiced at someone wanting to pay this much attention to me.
Plus there was Simon to account for. He was great all on his own.
As the brown paper stripped away, I took in the bundle tied with string. One pull of the yarn gave way. I lifted the hat, gloves, and scarf, holding them as I spread the knitted fabric wide.
"This is amazing," I said, voice reverent. "I was thinking that I didn't have anything to protect me against the elements."
Simon hummed as he stood to his full height. "This fell," he said, handing over a card.
I flipped it open. Inside it said: *Bundle up. It's a bit chilly this time of year. You deserve all the warmth.*
I could have sworn I turned into a melted puddle. I felt like Frosty, and I was hopeful that someone could put me back together because I needed to find whoever this was and thank them.
I quickly wrapped the scarf around me and slid on the hat. I was about to slip the gloves on when Simon reached out. "Here, let me help," he said quickly, as if he wanted to jump in.
I didn't stop him. Instead, I held my fingers out and wiggled them while he took the gloves and eased them onto my hands. Once they were in place, I squeezed my fingers in and out to show that they were a perfect fit.
"Do you feel warm, bud?" he asked.
I smiled widely and bobbed my head. "I absolutely do. They're perfect. I wish I knew who gave it to me so I could thank them."
He grinned and shook his head. "I'm sure everyone who sees you smiling is going to know. The person who gave it to you will be happy that you're happy."
