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“I knew it. You’ve turned me into your sex slave,” he chuckled, running his hands down my bare back. “Which reminds me…your birthday present.”
He lifted me off him and slipped out of bed, padding naked to the chest of drawers and pulling out a gold-wrapped package.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “You being my sex slave reminded you about my birthday gift? The mind boggles!”
“Not the sex slave part, the part about your delectable muffins,” he grinned, wagging his eyebrows. “Open it,” he encouraged, handing it to me and climbing back into bed.
I tore the paper off to reveal a black box, about the size of a paperback book. I opened it to find a key nestled on the velvet lining the inside.
I looked up at him in confusion. “What…?”
“It’s a key,” he said smugly.
“Um, yeah, I can see that,” I replied, wondering where this was going.
“To your new bakery in town.”
My mouth fell open, and I gaped at him. “My…I…what…when…?”
“I picked up the lease on the old bookshop. Tradespeople arrive Monday and await your instructions on making it exactly as you want it. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
I placed my hands against my flushed cheeks, shaking my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe…I don’t know what to say!”
“You don’t have to say anything. I know how much you want your own place, especially seeing how well Tasha is doing with Valentine’s Kitchen.”
I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you! This is the best present ever! Apart from marrying you, of course,” I grinned.
“Twice,” he said, not that I needed the reminder of our “real” wedding in Medicine Bow six months ago, complete with Tasha as my bridesmaid and all our friends in attendance. It had been perfect.
“Maybe we should make it a yearly thing,” I teased.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he said, covering my mouth with his and pressing me back into the mattress. “Whatever you want.”
