Drake pushed to his feet. “I’m going to the kitchen.” Hopefully, there were leftovers.
Hannah waved him off. “Judy left the slow cooker on. You should have plenty. She’s such a dear.”
Drake nodded and left, more than ready to have all the marriage advice and nagging done for the day. He pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen and practically attacked the slow cooker.
Soft footfalls landed on the stairs, and he groaned. “Can I just get a minute of peace?” he growled.
Clove stopped, one foot on the bottom stair and one on the floor. She wore ridiculous onesie pajamas in hot pink and had her hair in a messy bun on top of her head. “Sheesh! I just need a glass of water and then I’ll be out of your way.”
He fumbled with the spoon. She looked adorable, and that wasn’t a word in his regular vocabulary. Her freshly washed face shined and her cheeks were rosy, making him wonder if all her skin turned that color after a hot shower.
Her big blue eyes grew guarded in an instant, and he doubly regretted his outburst. “Sorry. It’s been a day.”
She didn’t say anything as she went to the sink. With her back to him, he caught sight of the ‘trap door’ to the goofy pajama set. He shoveled a spoonful of stew into his mouth to cover his snort of laughter. “Nice pajamas,” he managed to get out.
Clove lifted her chin. “Thank you. I’m rather fond of them, as they were a gift.”
“Oh?” he lifted his eyebrows, encouraging her to go on.
She sighed, as if discussing this with him was a torment she had to get through. “I didn’t pack a bag and the only store in town with clothing is Feed & Seed. My thermals needed to be washed and Judy, so kindly, handed over this beautiful set of fully footed pajamas, because, and I quote: "They're too long for her elf-like legs.”
He chuckled as he glanced down at Clove’s long and beautiful legs. Even under all that fabric, he could see her beautiful shape and he hated himself for noting it. “That would be a problem,” he croaked.
“The tags said that they came from the home shopping network.” Clove plucked the fabric between her fingers. “Buy now and beat the holiday rush–these slightly itchy, mummy-worthy bodysuits won’t last long,” she said in a fake announcer’s voice. “How’s the stew?”
He moaned in pleasure. “So good.” He took another bite and then another.
“Relax there, big guy. No one’s going to take it from you.” She smirked.
He lifted his bowl closer to his chin, letting the warm steam brush over his cold nose and cheeks. “I have a few flannel shirts I can loan you.” The idea of Clove wearing his clothes did that thing to him again–the thing he couldn’t name but really liked. He felt taller and stronger and like he should strut around the house or crow like a rooster.
It was stupid, but true, and he wished he didn’t feel that way when she was near. What he’d told Otis and Hannah was true. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want a woman in his life, making things difficult that didn’t need to be.
She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Normally I’d tell you to take your clothes and toss them in the lake–but I’m in kind of situation here so thank you.”
“Will you make me cookies in return for my kindness?” he asked hopefully. She laughed, the sound like Christmas music in a tree lot, bright and cheerful. “I’m serious. My family has a sugar cookie decorating party every year and I’m missing it.” He set the empty bowl down, not having tasted the last three bites.
“You can always go home without the trailer,” she sing-songed as she made her way to the stairs.
Without the trailer. Without Felix. Without her. It shouldn’t bother him if she wanted to stay, but somewhere in this conversation the image of her on the ranch, her blonde hair hanging loose down her back and the winter sun hitting all the highlights, had crept into his consciousness. He wanted her to see his cabin. He’d seen hers, she should visit him and see what a great job he did building it.
Clove stopped. “What? No snappy comeback?”
He pushed all thoughts of her barefooted on his living room rug as far away as they would go. Which meant they were on the nearest shelf in his brain. He drew himself up. “It’s been a rough day. I think I’ll hit the sack.” He rinsed his bowl and the now empty ceramic liner for the slow cooker and put them in the dishwasher, checked for soap, and then started it.
She watched him as if waiting for the punchline. He met her at the stairs, but she didn’t turn and go ahead of him. Instead, she put her arm out to stop him from going by. Not that he could. The space was impossibly small with the two of them in it. Had this house been built to code? Or was it built for someone as small as Judy and he and Clove happened to be giants in her world?
This close, he could smell the soap and lavender shampoo she used. The scent calmed him at the same time it brought to mind, nuzzling her neck and pressing kisses to her flushed skin.
“Why was it a rough day?” she asked softly.
Maybe it was the kindness in her voice, or perhaps he just needed someone to carry part of his load, but he told her, “I disappointed Otis, I fought with my brother, and I got a lecture from Hannah.” He dropped his eyes to her covered feet and wondered if she painted her toenails. “I’m trying to do my best, and it never seems good enough.” His shoulders hung heavy, the weight of the world sitting on them.
Clove’s forehead wrinkled. “Did you try to rob a bank or something?”
He huffed a humorous laugh. “If only. At least then I’d have a pile of gold bars.”
Her hand flew to her mouth to hold back her laughter.
