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I slide the papers together and drop them in a folder before moving them out of her way. “Why were you telling her about that?”
Dove’s eyes are wide, and she tilts her head to the side. “Darcy said she and Mr. Digger were volunteering at the food bank in town on Thanksgiving Day.”
The rivalry between my daughter and Digger’s niece frustrates me. Darcy Hayes is a little brat, and I want Dove to be better than that. At the same time, I’m not about to let a her have an edge on my daughter.
“I have an idea.” Sliding my work away, I take down a roll of newspaper. “Let’s make a sample kit for Ms. Moody to show her what we’re giving them.”
“We can give her Miss Jessica’s favorite lip balm!” My daughter’s voice goes loud with excitement.
Taron stops behind her. “Is that the same lip balm you made for me?”
“It is.” Turning quickly to the pantry, I fight the memory of that first night… when I ran my finger across his full lips, and he kissed me.
Hell, every time I’m in this pantry, I fight with the memory of him at my back doing very dirty things. A shuffling at the door causes the little hairs to rise on my skin.
“Can I help with anything?” His voice is quiet, and I wonder if he remembers what happened in this pantry as well as I do.
Reaching up, I grab the shea butter, sweet almond oil, and raw coconut off the shelf, trying to hurry from this small space and its big memories. I’m moving too fast, and when I turn, I slam right into his hard chest.
Large hands catch my upper arms. “Easy.”
Lifting my chin, I meet his eyes, warm and dark.
“I’m sorry… thanks.” His lips are so close, his breath is a whisper across my cheek. The space between my thighs heats, but I’m stronger than that. “You can let me go now.”
He doesn’t let me go right away. He holds me a minute longer, and his eyes move from mine down to my lips. My heart beats so hard it’s painful.
“I ran out of that lip balm a long time ago. Would you make some for me?” His eyes blink up to mine again, and I can’t move.
I’m a deer caught in the spell of dying for him to kiss me, dying for the feel of his lips on mine, on my body, rough, hungry… and knowing if I let it happen, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Am I ready for that? Do I trust him not to hurt me? My heart says yes, yes! But my mind remembers…
“Sure.” The word escapes on a weak sigh.
His grip on my arms squeezes and relaxes, and it takes a breath for me to realize I can step back, step away from the fire that burned me beyond recognition once.
Turning on my heel, I hurry to the table, where Dove has put on the special pink apron I got for her.
She frowns at me. “Mamma, why is your face all red?”
Jesus, little kids. “Is it? I think I stood up too fast. Here… Spread out the newspaper.”
Taron’s boots thud on the floor behind me, and I set everything on the counter, hurrying into the pantry again for the ingredients to make the lotion. I move faster this time. I can’t be alone in here with him again.
When I return to the table, they’ve spread the newspaper, and she hops down, reaching to take Sawyer’s grilling apron off the door.
“You can wear this.” He takes it from her slipping it over his head. “If you get any of this oil on your clothes, it will not wash out.”
Pressing my lips together, I grin at her authoritative little voice. She sounds just like me.
Taron smiles, and the love in his eyes for her almost completely nukes the barriers I’ve built around my heart.
“You’re really good at this.” He sits in a chair across from where Dove stands beside me.
“I’ve been doing it since I was five.” She nods at him, like she’s not only six and a half.
We spend the next few hours measuring out lotions and scents, putting balms in glass pots and sticking labels on the outsides. When we have enough set to the side, I pat my daughter’s back.
“We’ll put them in gift bags later. It’s time for you to get some sleep.”
