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“Don’t,” he threw out, narrowing his eyes.
Feeling my brow crease in confusion, I cocked my head. “Why don’t you like me to thank you?” It always seemed to annoy him.
“You thank me for things that it’s only natural I do, given you’re my wife.”
Really, though, he didn’t need to do such “natural” stuff. We still weren’t a couple in the truest sense of the word. He was free of many expectations wives generally had for their husbands. And yet … he was going to accompany me, because he took things that were important to me seriously.
I swallowed hard, touched. He might not care deeply for me, but he cared what mattered to me. That meant a lot.
The moat that existed between us had narrowed over the past couple of weeks. I felt it. Heard it in his words. Saw it in his actions.
“I’m a person who likes to express her gratitude,” I said.
“Well, don’t.”
I sighed. “But I don’t want you to think I take you or the things you do for granted.”
His face softened. “I already know you don’t, because I knowyou. So, you can keep any thanks to yourself in future.”
That wasn’t likely to happen, and he’d just have to suck it up.
He flicked back the covers. “Closet. I want to choose what you wear today.”
I felt my forehead crease. “You only usually ask to do that on days we spend apart.”
One brow crawled up. “Is that a no?”
I shook my head. “I’m just making an observation. Are you ever going to tell me why it ‘pleases’ you that I consent to this?”
“Probably not.”
“Because you’d prefer not to, or because you like thatnot knowingvexes me as much as it does?”
Humor danced in his eyes. “A little of the first, a lot of the latter.”
I barely held back a huff.Ass.“Maybe I should start not tellingyouthings, like … I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.”
His mouth quirked. “I’m sure you will. But it should make you feel better that you’ll be leading me around a Christmas tree farm this afternoon.” A pained expression took over his face.
“Please don’t cry. I’m not good with sobbers.”
He spared me a hard glance before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Closet.”
“I heard you the first
∞∞∞
Later that day, I tipped my head to the side as I drank in the sight of the red cedar we’d placed in the corner of the living room. “I think that’s a good spot.”
Beside me, Dax grunted in agreement. “The one I had last year was set up near the window. It looked out of place.”
I frowned, surprised. “You had a tree last year?”
Another grunt—this one of confirmation. “Mimi hauled one here on Christmas Eve to surprise me,” he explained, frustration lining his forehead. “I only allowed her to set it up because her aunt had just died and she wasn’t in a good place.”
I would bet that Mimi had counted on him making such allowances for her. She was no stranger to manipulating him. “Did she ask to stay over?”
“Yes. But that wasn’t something I was going to consent to, no matter her situation. It certainly didn’t help her case that she made yet another … sexual overture that was subtle enough she could play off as a joke. So I told her to leave.”
