“About what?”
“About you. Gimme a second.”
Perhaps I should have offered up suggestions, because he takes my question as permission to lean in and study my every feature from the neck up. I somehow manage to swallow what’s in my mouth, but as long as those intense brown eyes roam over me, attempting to eat anything more is useless.
“Your hair’s down.” Warren captures a lock and twirls it around one long finger. “All soft and flowylike.” The gentle tugging tickles my scalp. Sleeping in his lap must have been unspoken permission to break the no-touching rule, because now he’s finding so many small and innocent ways to touch me. “I like it this way, wife. It suits you very much.”
“Thank you,” I stammer. A cozy warmth hugs my heart as he gives a half smile before his finger slips away. He shovels another spoonful of grits, and I nibble a little here and there. Just enough to sate my hunger without gorging myself. Since the first time he fed me breakfast, he hasn’t offered anything other than butter with my biscuit.
After last night, I don’t think he’d be the sort of man to keep food from me if I asked, but it’s the asking part that’s hard. So I tell myself I’m completely satisfied with my buttered biscuit even as I watch blueberry jam drip from his. He doesn’t even see my ill-concealed envy because his own eyes are closed with deep satisfaction.
But then they open and dance with a bit of mischief. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
Warren’s chair scrapes across the floor, and he doesn’t go far, only there by the cupboard to reach for something. I’m not prepared for what he carries over to the table, though, with a boyish grin.
“Happy birthday, wife.” Warren ceremoniously places a small, yellow cake baked in a cup before me. “I don’t haveany candles for you to blow out, but may this be the first year of all your happy ones.”
A rich, sugary scent fills the air, but for all its sweetness, I want to cry. I’ve never had anything given to me for my birthday before. None of them have been worth celebrating.
Warren shifts uncertainly, and I remember that I haven’t said anything yet. Blinking back the tears that threaten to fall, I offer a soft, tentative smile. “Thank you, Warren. I hope it is, too.”
“Go on and eat up.” He nudges my fork over to me, so I take my first bite. Sweetness explodes on my tongue, and I savor the taste of it before swallowing.
“It’s so good,” I manage, and Warren beams at the compliment. But there’s simply too much of it for me to finish, even with its small size. “Here, why don’t you eat it with me?”
“Are you sure?”
I nod again, and moments later, Warren leans back with a low groan and rubs his flat stomach. “Emmaline’s got the right of it. I’m about ready for a nap myself.” He frowns at the breakfast food left on my plate. “You done?”
“Hmm?” Dragging my eyes from the sculpted lines of his torso takes longer than I’d care to admit. Why couldn’t he have put a shirt on like every other day? “Yes, thank you.” I ate more than I meant to even before the cake, but there’s still a good bit of food left.
“I swear, woman, your appetite must be no bigger than a thimble if that’s all it takes to fill you up. You sure you don’t want anymore?”
“You always give me more than I can eat.” True, but a bit misleading. But with the cake we shared, there’s truly no more room in my stomach.
“If you’re sure…” He’s more skeptical than suspicious, but when I reach for his plate, fingers wrap around my wrist. “What are you doing?”
Alarm spikes my pulse at the suddenness of his touch, but I force it away. I’m being silly. The man just gave me a small cake for my birthday. He’s not going to hurt me. “I’m just clearing the table. Were you not finished?”
“You don’t have to clean up after me. I told you if I make the mess, I clean it up.”
I purse my lips. “I live here now, do I not?”
“Yeah.” Satisfaction is heavy in his low tone. “Damn right you do.”
Exactly. “Then I need to do more than just let you do everything for me. No man wants a lazy wife.”
“Lazy? Mara, you just gave birth to our baby girl.” Wrinkles furrow his brow with every word.
“A month ago!” I exclaim, heart softening yet again upon hearing him claim Emmaline. “Most women are back to doing chores the next day.”
“Most women don’t have a Shay for a husband. And besides, it’s your birthday. Now you just go on back to the parlor and I’ll be in there as soon as I’m done.”
“I can’t just sit there all day and not do anything around the house,” I protest at his finality.
Warren rubs over the sensitive skin of my wrist. “Spending time with your husband and baby isn’t doing nothing.”
This man and his damn touches are a danger to my thoughts. I place my free hand on his big one to stop him. Goodness, his fingers are so much longer than mine.Focus, Mara.I shake my thoughts clear. “She’s sleeping, so I would just be in there by myself.”
