Page 64 of Suddenly Yours

Home. I was home.

I rolled onto my back and smiled at the ceiling before pulling on one of his T-shirts and padding down the stairs.

Cade stood at the stove in bare feet and worn jeans. There was a worn flannel of his tossed over the back of the kitchen chair. A plate of golden French toast sat beside the stove, dusted generously with powdered sugar. Bacon sizzled in the pan in front of him, and a bowl of scrambled eggs waited nearby.

“You cook like this and I’ll never leave,” I joked, leaning against the doorway.

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned at me. God, he was sexy. “Good.” He chuckled.

I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek between his shoulder blades. He smelled like soap and coffee and something distinctly Cade.

“Good morning.” He leaned around and kissed the top of my head.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” I said.

“I wanted to,” he replied easily. “Since you agreed to move in with me, I figured I had better start to spoil you.”

He turned fully, lifted my chin, and kissed me, slow and unhurried. The kind of kiss that made my knees feel weak.

We ate breakfast as the sunlight spilled across the wood floors. I listened as he talked about paint colors and which rooms he wanted to tackle first, nodding along, even though I’d never painted a thing in my life.

“Are you ready?” he asked after we cleared the dishes.

I hesitated. “You know I’ve never done this before, right?”

His eyes softened. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

An hour later, I stood in his living room wearing one of his old shirts and a pair of leggings. I was staring down at the paint supplies like they might bite me.

“Okay,” Cade said patiently, rolling tape along the baseboards with practiced ease. “Rule number one, don’t overload the roller.”

He walked over and demonstrated, dipping it carefully, rolling off the excess slowly. “You want even coverage, not drips.”

I mimicked him, my tongue tucked between my teeth in concentration.

“Relax,” he teased. “It’s just paint.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered. “You’re good at this.”

I probably looked like he had the first time I’d asked him to help me frost anything.

I rolled the paint onto the wall, surprised by how satisfying it felt. The soft gray color transformed the space instantly, covering years of wear and old bleached-out walls with something fresh. Something… new.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Long strokes. Let the roller do the work.”

By the second wall, I was starting to get the hang of it. By the third, I was laughing when I accidentally dabbed paint onto my forearm.

Cade laughed and pulled out a cloth. “Don’t move.”

He reached up and I moved to block him, but it was too late. He’d already smeared a faint streak of paint onto my cheek.

I gasped. “You did not.”

He stepped back, hands raised innocently. “It was an accident.”

I lunged for him, paint roller in hand.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he laughed, backing away.