“I just—How do you say stuff like that?”
“Like what?”
“Likeyou’re a good mom.”
“I just say it?”
She shook her head. “My ex—he—” She dropped the conversation. Her ex believed that giving a compliment cost him. He never handed them out without expecting something in return. “Never mind.”
Forest reached out and stopped her from turning away from him. His eyes were serious and his jaw firm in a way that made those sugarplums start twirling in her stomach. “I don’t know what happened with him—I don’t even know his name—but I know that you deserved better.”
“How?” she whispered.
He searched her face. “Because you pack apunch.”
He’d tickled her funny bone, but not enough to reward him for being corny. She slipped out of his hand. “You’re so funny.”
“I mean it. You’re very disarming.”
She chuckled but kept her face turned so he couldn’t see the smile tugging at her lips.
“Hey, I’m just calling it like I feel it.”
She snorted. Their eyes caught and held for a moment. She had that same feeling that she’d had the night before, the one where her stomach did scary, wonderful things.
They stayed there for what felt like only a minute but made an impression for eternity before Forest seemed to come out of a trance and realize where he was—or who he was. He was a Nicholas. Born into a life of privilege and expectations. Not that she knew what those expectations were for him—other than being a part of the ranch. Still, she could see all that in his expression.
Needing a breather, she looked around for her boss. Carla was always good at jumping in, but she was nowhere to be seen. Either she’d been called to the back for a delivery, or she’d ducked out to give Mitzi and Forest a moment alone. The second option was fairly mortifying in that it implied Carla believed Mitzi was interested in Forest. She wasn’t. Well, beyond watching him shake his groove thing. “Will there be anything else for you?”
Forest set the Santas on the counter. “I need supplies for the sleigh.”
She flapped a hand. “I already have everything.”
“You do?”
She nodded, feeling proud of herself. “It’s in the garage.”
He rubbed his beard. “How much do I owe you?”
She shook her head. “It was scraps and leftovers, seconds and mis-mixed paint. I didn’t buy any of it.”
He frowned. “But it cost gas at least. Let me pay for that.”
She shook her head again. “I was driving to and from work anyway.” She motioned to the store. “Don’t worry about it. Okay?”
He took her measure. She hoped he understood that she wasn’t in this to bilk him for all he was worth. Part of her felt so very blessed that she was getting paid to fix up a sled she’d planned to fix anyway. Sure, with the sleigh out of the picture, she’d need a gift or two for under the tree—not to mention a tree—but with the money Forest planned to pay her, she’d have enough.
Plus, she didn’t want him to pity her. She didn’t want to be his charity case. She wanted him to see her as capable and strong.
And she didn’t want to think about why.
He wrapped his knuckles on the counter. “Well, all righty then. I guess it’s just the groovy Santas.”
“Groovy?” She quickly scanned the tags and rang him up. Weird that he’d picked the same word she did: groove, groovy. Had she said it out loud? Or were they just on the same page?
He cocked a grin at her. “Yeah, groovy is the right word.”
“You sound pretty confident there, wrangler.”
