He leaned in so their cheeks touched. His breath was warm enough to melt her bones as it graced her neck. She fought the urge to arch into him and invite a kiss in that very spot.
“You’re full of goodness, Clove.” His words were quiet and spoken in a low, inviting voice. He pulled away, and she drifted after him before she caught herself.
This man! He made her want to fall into his arms and kiss him until she passed out for want of air.
“What about you?” she tried to sound casual but came up just a little short with a tightness to her voice that belied how much his answer meant to her.
He lifted a shoulder. “If you would have asked me last Christmas, I would have said no.”
“Really?” She worked quickly to school her features. Otis’s warning was fresh in her mind. Was Drake going to tell her he wasn’t interested in marriage, a future together, and even—gulp—her? She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. Not now. Not after such a beautiful day and a wonderful couple of days together. Could he see how well they worked together? What a great match they could be? “But you’re a family-type guy.”
He laughed. “Family-type. What is that?”
She scooted past him and toward the fireplace, doing her best to school her heart as it thrummed, gaining speed. “You grew up with a wonderful family. You had a fun and trauma-free childhood. By all accounts, you should have half a dozen children by now.” And I shouldn’t want to claw your imaginary wife’s eyes out, she added silently, but I do. She clenched her fist, creating crescent shaped jealousy marks in her palms.
He followed her into the front room and stood behind her, stretching his hands out to the fire to warm them. The move was so smooth. Acting like she took up the whole fireplace, and this was the only place he could stand. She didn’t mind being tucked against his chest at all. He smelled a little like the shop they’d left that afternoon and a lot like the spicy scent of his aftershave. She drew in a breath, imprinting the scent in her memory. She’d never be able to smell it without thinking of him.
“Maybe that’s why my family thinks I’m a weirdo.” He scooted a little closer and wrapped one arm around her middle. “I’ve always said that I have nieces and nephews. What more could a man ask for?”
“Hm,” she said, to keep him talking.
“The thing is, when you grow up with four brothers, you kind of want some space.”
She burst out laughing. “Kind of?”
He chuckled, the sound reverberating from his chest into her back. Goodness, she could do this all day and all night.
“Yeah. I shared a room with Pax until I was twenty-two. Bunk beds.” He shuddered dramatically, and she giggled. “Top bunk,” he added, making her giggle harder.
He tickled her side. “You think it’s funny? He snores.”
“He does not!” she playfully smacked his arm.
He lifted his hand in the air. “Cross my heart and hope to get a full stocking.”
She shook her head at him. “I think you’d make a wonderful father, Drake. Heck, just sticking around would make you a hundred times better than my dad. But I know you’d do more than that—you’d be a good influence in your kids’ lives.” She barely stopped herself from sayingour kids’ lives.
“You don’t say much about your dad.” He rocked her to the side and kissed her temple.
She sighed. It was hard to share her ugly—even though she knew it wasn’therugly, per se. But it was a part of her past and therefore a part of her—no matter how much she tried to shed it. She stiffened. “He was a hard man–expecting me to be grown up long before I knew how. He laughed at me as I learned and never had an encouraging word.”
Drake wrapped both arms around her and just held her while she was in that space. “He was a fool.”
She nodded. “He was. Could still be. I don’t even know if he’s alive.” She frowned. “Probably not. Well–maybe. I don’t know.”
“Have you ever looked him up?”
She scoffed. “Never had the desire, to be honest. Does that make me a bad person?”
“No. It most certainly does not make you a bad person.”
“But you took care of your father last year when he was so sick. Shouldn’t I feel some responsibility toward mine?” She’d peeled back a layer of her guilt with that statement. It was too late to take it back. She’d just have to take the lecture he gave her and then they’d move on and she’d pretend she hadn’t said a word.
“Clove.” He moved his hands to her hips and turned her around to face him. “Even the best of families are complicated.”
She wanted to protest. His family wasn’t complicated. They were wonderful.
“I wish I had the answers but I think that,” he paused as he arranged his thoughts, “the fact that you don’t feel an obligation toward him could be a gift from God. Maybe those ties were cut so you can be whatever personyouchoose to be without your father’s sins hanging over your head.”
