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“Let’s just say I have friends.”
I nod. “Good friends.”
“Good friends,” he agrees.
I turn to him, and put my hands on his cheeks. I’m so glad he has good people in his life, people he can count on. He deserves that. “Thank you. I’ll be able to get the costumes fixed faster now, and I can deliver them later today. They don’t need them until tomorrow, but I’d like to get them done right away just in case.”
“We have another machine coming, one more suited for delicate material, in case you want to work on some of your own designs. Later this afternoon we can go pick out some fabric. Luis suggested a great manufacturer just outside of Nice. It’s where he goes, and he called ahead to give us access. I think it will be a nice drive today.”
Incredulous I stand still and stare at him. What did I ever do to deserve all this from him? His knuckles brush with mine, and from downstairs my cell blares. I tense, instantly recognizing the caller from the personalized ring. I ignore it, and Cason frowns.
“Aren’t you going to get that?”
“No,” I say quickly, too quickly. Cason’s eyes move over my face, but I don’t want to tell him I’m avoiding my father and all the ridiculous demands he’s placing on me. I’m not going to risk Cason kicking me to the curb if he found out what I was really up to.
“How about something to eat,” he says, and I’m grateful when he doesn’t push. “Then you can get to work on the costumes.” He gives me a tap on the ass. “Go ahead and shower. I’ll make us something to eat.”
I nod and force my legs to carry me to the master en suite. He’s being so incredibly sweet and giving, I can’t help but want to do something special for him, something important. I turn on the spray and as I wait for it to warm, an idea forms, takes shape in my brain. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to pull it off, especially without him finding out, but dammit, I’m going to try. Yeah, a Christmas morning to change his outlook and give him happier memories is just what Cason needs. What we all need.
With a renewed determination about me, I shower quickly, and within twenty minutes I step into the kitchen and find Cason on the phone. He has that familiar smile on his face and his words are soft. He hangs up and turns my way.
“Was that Peyton?” I ask.
“How did you know?” He hands me another cup of coffee and divvies up the eggs and bacon. The toast pops and he slides a piece onto each plate.
“I remember that smile.”
He laughs. “When did it get so hard raising a kid sister?”
“Ah, that’s your problem,” I say as I slide a mouthful of eggs into my mouth. Cason’s gaze drops, settles on my lips and my insides buzz to life.
“Meaning?” he asks.
“She’s not a kid anymore, Cason.”
“She’ll always be a kid to me,” he snarls grouchily.
“I’m sure she loves that attitude.” He snatches his fork from the table, his scowl still in place. “What did you guys like to do as kids? What games did you play?” I ask.
“That’s a strange question.”
“I used to love snakes and ladders.”
He smiles. “That was one of Peyton’s favorites, and one Christmas we were together, with foster parents, and she got this Tamagotchi that she was crazy about, but it went missing. I actually think it was stolen.”
“Really? By who?”
He toys with his eggs. “The fifteen-year-old who didn’t want us in his house. Things got physical between us.” He shakes his head. “Shit, if I hadn’t decked that asshole, maybe we wouldn’t have gotten tossed out. I wasn’t the easiest kid.”
My heart goes out to him. Something tells me he got himself kicked out before they could kick him out. Maybe it was easier leaving first, and skipping all that rejection. My heart tumbles. I sort of did the same thing to him. I rejected him and dated a boy my father approved of. I can’t even imagine the scars imprinted on this man’s heart.
“You were just protecting your sister,” I say. “You know I always loved that about you.” As soon as that L-word leaves my mouth, his head lifts. “I just mean, you’re protective of those you care about.” I toss a piece of bacon into my mouth and chew. “What were your favorite toys or games?” I ask, hating the sadness in his eyes.
He gives a noncommittal shrug. “I never really had a favorite anything.”
“Okay,” I say and let it go. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to open old wounds. I take a few more bites. “I’ll help you clean up and then get sewing,” I say, excited to have something productive to do.
“I got this.” He stands, takes my plate from me and drops a tender kiss onto my head. Whoa, where the hell did that come from? “You go. Those kids are probably waiting on you.”
