“Where would you like it?” His eyes gleamed. “I can put it anywhere you want.”
“Not sure yet. Can I get the other sketches printed so I can frame them?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you.” I kissed his forehead, cheek, and lips.“Since you’ve been so accommodating, let me show you how I can take care of myman of a certain age.”
A roar of laughter erupted in The Marketplace. People glanced at us, but I didn’t care.
Smiling, I got to my feet, dragging him with me. “We can explore places that should be inked. What say you?”
“Hell, yeah.” His lips curled into a wicked grin. “This man of a certain age can’t wait to explore you. But first, you need to see your other gifts. Let’s go to the penthouse.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Kain
Hand in hand, we strode into the penthouse. “Stop,” I said. “Don’t peek.” I covered her eyes with my hands.
Laughing, she covered her hands with mine. “What kind of gift is this?”
“A one-of-a-kind gift made by me.”
“I can’t wait.”
When we arrived at the dining table, I removed my hands. “Don’t laugh.”
She pressed her lips together the moment she saw it, her shoulders trembling slightly. “I would never—” A strangled sound escaped her. “Oh my. Wow.”
She pressed a hand to her chest, walking closer, examining the wide-mouthed vase with what appeared to be six passionflowers trying to escape a crowded jungle. Vines of passionflowers spilled widely in every direction, curling around each other as if they’d gotten into a disagreement. One ambitioustendril had looped up and over the rim and was now dangling toward the table as if it were desperate for survival.
“I followed a tutorial,” I said, standing beside her. “It said to let them drape naturally, adding drama to the presentation.”
“This one looks like it’s being held hostage.” She pointed to a passionflower tangled with vines.
Squinting, I pursed my lips. “No, that’s intentional. It’s called depth and intensity, symbolizing our love.”
“Depth. Intensity. Love,” she echoed solemnly, lost her restraint, and burst out laughing. Her joy bounced around the house, making me smile.
“I knew it was bad, but I really tried.”
“It’s not bad. It’s ambitious, thoughtful, and unique.” She gripped my wrist, staring at my hands. “You made it?”
“I chose each flower and piece of greenery myself. Ipickyou—will youpickme?” I offered her a lopsided smile.
She slipped her hands around my waist, rose to her tiptoes, and kissed me. “I’ll always pick you, and I love it.”
I blinked. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not.” She rested her chin on my chest. “It’s perfect.”
“Perfect?” Amusement sparked in me as I glanced doubtfully at my first flower arrangement.
“Yeah,” she said, grinning. “It’s trying really hard . . . and it’s a little all over the place, like organized chaos . . . and it’s accidentally hilarious.” She squeezed me. “Sounds like my boyfriend. He’s a wild and romantic plant.”
I snorted, not sure if I liked that endearment. But anything from Eva made me feel special and loved. It was true what people said about love—that it inspired you to do and say silly things. I loved how we entertained each other with humor, despite our age difference.
“Ready for the ultimate gift?” I asked.
