I don’t even hesitate. “The happiest I’ve ever been.”
“Good,” she says, her voice small, and I need her tolook over here so I can see what those pretty eyes are doing. “I want to make you happy.”
“Hey, come here.” I empty my hands and pull her toward me, catching her wrist and bringing it to my lips. I kiss her palm, hold it to my heart. “I want to be with you because you’re amazing and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. There are going to be days where I don’t feel great, and you will, too, because that’s just life, but no matter how I’m feeling, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
Her cheeks darken, and I swear, no color will ever mean as much to me.
“Oh,” she says shyly. “I feel the same way.”
Beneath my ribs, my heart explodes. I didn’t know love could feel like this. As though every day can only get better than the one before.
Paige clears her throat, and I release her hand.
“So, Bernie is great for big batches, but I still like the old way for one-off orders.” She pulls out a small hot plate, the kind that brings back memories of poor decisions and late nights in college, which are more of a blur than a memory to me now. “There’s a saucepan by the sink. Can you fill it a third of the way with water?”
I do as instructed, and Paige takes it from me when I return.
“When we started this place,” she says, “we used to experiment all the time in our tiny apartment kitchen, trying different scent combinations but really just making a mess. Then we didn’t want to stop.”
Paige sets the hot plate to a low heat. She takes two latex gloves from a nearby box, sliding one on herself and handing me the other. I pull it on.
“Now,” she says, gesturing to the giant tub of wax flakes beside me, “for these jars, we’ll need to measure out nine and a half ounces.”
With no spoon or tool at hand, I go ahead and use my hand to scoop out the wax into the waiting pot. It’s smooth, and it crumbles with a little pressure. “Huh. It’s a bit like sand.”
Her small laugh is like heaven. “Yeah, sorry.”
“No, I like it, I think.” It’s soft, like her.
“That should be enough,” she says.
Oh yeah, the scale. Fuck.
She’s standing close enough that I can smell the faint sweetness of her skin underneath the fragrance in the air, and it’s killing me not to bend down and taste her. I could. Lap up the taste of her and the soft little whimpers she makes that fucking drive all the blood from my brain to my dick. But as much as I want to tear her clothes off, I also want this—to hear her talk, uncover every memory until I know her as well as I know myself, maybe better. Because she’s all I think about.
Paige sets the double boiler up and stands back.
“Now we let it dissolve,” she says.
I take that as my cue to fill the time with her mouth. She melts so perfectly into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and meeting each kiss with one of herown, growing bold enough to tug at my bottom lip with her teeth.
If we want to get anything else done, we probably need to stop.
I give it another few kisses, just to be sure.
Somewhere along the line, Paige ended up in my arms, her legs wrapped around my waist. Yeah, we should probably check on that wax.
I lower her back onto her feet. “So, what next?”
“Um, right.” Paige giggles. “Uh, normally, this is where we’d add fragrance oil if we were adding any, but since we aren’t, we can pour them into the jars.”
“You don’t need to avoid it for my sake.”
But Paige won’t take no for an answer. “Skye already restocked yesterday, and if we run out of those candles while she’s away, I’ll make more.”
I watch her stir the melted wax, testing the temperature with a thermometer she clips onto the side.
“If you need help this week,” I say, “I’ll get someone to look over the shop. I only have a few commissions waiting to be picked up.”
