“Here,” he said, cupping his hands over her breasts. “I know.”
Her breathing grew heavier.
“You birthed a baby, Pixie. How incredible is that? Your body went through a lot of work and then you breastfed your son.”
“I couldn’t afford formula anyway, but I had already decided to breastfeed him.”
He released her breasts to cross his arms around her and give her a warm hug. “Every inch of your body makes me hot—your beautiful face, your soft hair, the way you smile … Your sexy hips, stomach, and breasts are icing on the cake.”
“The marks really didn’t bother you?”
“Get real. I see you and I want you. I barely noticed them. Besides, nothing about you could ever bother me—unless you told me to get lost.”
“I would never!”
“I’m glad.” He brushed his nose over her hair and mused quietly, “Everything feels different today, at least to me.”
“To me, too.”
Where did they go from here?
“I woke up with you on my mind, already wanting you again,” Brogan said. “But I think we have some things to discuss, and the kids will be awake soon.”
Both relieved and disappointed, Pixie filled the carafe. “Was Shayna up long last night?”
“Long enough for me to change her diaper, give her a bottle, and hold her for a bit. My little Sugar loves to snuggle during the night.”
“I think that was more toward morning,” Pixie teased, enjoying the feel of him close to her back. “But yes, she loves snuggling with you. She always rubs her face into your neck.”
“Which is why I shave every day, whether I feel like it or not.” He ran a hand over his raspy morning whiskers. “She’s a delicate little thing.”
A small light over the sink barely illuminated the room, but shortly there would be sunlight pouring in. “Last night, when I came out—there was something I wanted to tell you.”
“What is it?” he asked, his lips skimming along her shoulder.
Knowing this wouldn’t be a pleasant subject for him, Pixie started the coffeepot and then turned in his arms to face him. “How Ruthie knew where you were …”
Concern brought his brows together. “What Erin said made sense. She loved Connie the way you love Marlow. If she says Connie likely left other papers, she probably did.”
What he said struck her.What would I do if I lost Marlow?
Marlow was such a big part of her life. In many ways, the best part of her. The thought of losing her sent a shaft of sympathy for Erin through her.
She leaned into Brogan. “That’s the thing, though. If Ruthie found things Connie had written, then it’s possible she discovered more than just your location here in Bramble.”
“Such as?”
Clearly, he hadn’t gotten much sleep. The problems were piling up on him, and then they’d spent the night—or most of it—together. Pixie worried that he might leave just to find some peace and quiet. He’d take Shayna, of course—she didn’t doubt that—and the idea was equally unbearable.
She loved them both.
Last night reassured her that she was making progress. She believed he wanted to stay.
But would he?
“Promise me you won’t do anything until we’ve had a chance to sort it out.”
“Sort what out?” New concern showed in his expression. “How can I make a promise when I don’t know what I’m dealing with?”
