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“Everything alright?”
His head moves up and down without lifting off my stomach. Huh. That isn’t convincing.
“I thought you were sleeping downstairs.”
This time, his head moves back and forth. His nose and mouth ruffle the fabric of my t-shirt against my skin as he shakes his head.
Okay… Someone’s gone silent on me.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, his words distorted against my belly.
“For what?”
“For finding me,” he murmurs, his arms giving me a squeeze. “For choosing me.”
A surprise, indeed. I slip my fingers into his thick nest of unruly hair. My heart reverberates even stronger when he sighs and leans his head into my touch. I’m not sure what brought on this display of gratitude for little old me, but it brings a tear to my eye.
“You’re welcome,” I whisper. “Thanks for choosing me back.”
His stubble brushes against my skin, riding my shirt up as he cranes his head to look at me. His eyes are bleary with exhaustion, but full of a look I’d thought exists only in movies.
“It wasn’t a choice. It was…inexorable.”
I’m still absorbing the romance of the comment when he buries his face back against my stomach. His back rises like a plaid-covered mountain, inhaling.
“Mm. Snuggle.”
“What?”
“You smell like Snuggle,” he slurs, pressing a kiss next to my belly button. “All the time. I could smell you all day.”
I know he said that once before, but all I can smell is apples. Tangy, potent apple scent. Almost like alcohol. Ah. That explains the lovey-ness.
Chuckling, I catch the underside of his chin with my index finger and urge his face up. “Are you buzzed?”
Eyelids drooped, he nods against my hand. Shifting his gaze to the left, he squints at the glow from my tablet and frowns.
“Did you do these?”
Before I can put the screen to sleep, he palms my device. His gaze rakes over the three designs I drafted of Carver’s Orchard logos. How embarrassing. He was picking apples all day, and I was eating pie, making apple butter, and drawing.
“Yeah. I was just doodling to pass the time.”
I try to tug the tablet from his hand, but he seems intent on continuing his perusal.
“You did this all by hand?”
“Um, yeah. I just use a stylus on this program I have.”
Letting go, he watches as I toss the device onto the nightstand. “They’re amazing. You should show my parents.”
I don’t hold back my scoff as I flop back onto the pillow. “That’d be presumptuous. They already have a logo.”
“Yeah, but it sucks. Those are far better. They’re amazing. You’re amazing.”
Okay. Buzzed Pete is officially cute. “Thanks, but I am not.”
“Don’t do that,” he warns, but it comes out too tired sounding to be a scolding. “You are, too.”
