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She pulled out the box that held the roses, opened it, and let out an “Ahh,” of appreciation. “They’re beautiful. Thanks. You really didn’t have to.”
Maybe. But the smile she gave him made him glad he had.
“There’s a vase in one of the sacks.” He retrieved it and filled it with water. His mother had told him more than once that presentation was important when giving gifts, and he was doing a terrible job in that regard. Nothing was gift-wrapped. Everything was just in bags, as though all of this had been an afterthought while he was shopping.
Olivia pulled out the box of chocolates. Those earned another “Ahh” and a “Thanks.”
She turned to the art store sack. He put his hand on it to stop her from opening it. “I should’ve gotten you jewelry. I was going to, then I worried you wouldn’t like it, so I went to the art store. The lady there said you’d love this, but now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure she just sold me an item off a high school teacher supply list. That can’t be my first real gift to you. It has to be something nice. Something romantic so that when you tell our children about it, they don’t think I’m an idiot.”
Olivia cocked her head. “Are we at the point in our relationship where we’re thinking about children?”
He shrugged, nonplussed by the question. “Apparently, I am. And I want them to think their old man is cool.”
She bit back a smile. “I have bad news for you. I work with children, and none of them think their parents are cool. Besides, your first gift to me was the roses. Those are romantic.”
“Flowers don’t count as a first gift.”
She tapped a finger against her lips in thought. “In that case, your first gift to me was the sheep milk.”
“You’re not making me sound any cooler.”
She stepped toward him and put her hand over his on the bag. “Are you going to let me open this?”
He didn’t move his hand. His eyes flicked to her wrist. “Do you want a better bracelet than the school motto one? The next time I go to Lark Springs, I’ll buy you one.”
“You don’t have to.”
She meant it. One more difference between Olivia and the women he’d dated before. They’d all expected expensive gifts.
“I know I don’t have to,” he said. “But I’m going to. I want you to consider the bracelet the first gift I give you. The art supplies will be the second, okay?”
“Sure. We can rearrange time. That’s a thing.”
He slowly moved his hand away.
Olivia opened the bag, peered inside, and squealed in delight. “The metallic ceramic glazes I’ve been wanting!” She picked up the bag and held it to her chest. “Sonja sold these to you, didn’t she? She knows I’ve had my eye on them for the longest time.”
He should’ve realized that the art store lady knew Olivia. He’d told the woman he wanted to buy a gift for a high school art teacher. Only one of those lived in Lark Springs. Suddenly Carson was glad he’d listened to Sonja. He wouldn’t have been able to pick out a gift that Olivia liked as much on his own. She set the bag down on the counter and wrapped her arms around his waist. “This is your first real gift to me, and it’s very romantic. I will hurt our children if they say otherwise.”
He bent his head and kissed her. He knew she was just joking about their children, but it was still nice to hear her say the words. Right now their children sounded like a real possibility.
18
Working construction had become easier for Olivia. She found she had more energy at night for her sketchbook. She started on a drawing of a couple of children collecting pinecones. A blond boy with Carson’s eyes. A girl with Olivia’s face shape and wavy dark hair. She knew that their children, if they ever had them, wouldn’t actually look like this, but the picture made her happy anyway. Perhaps she would draw another with these children just to prolong the happy feeling.
Basically, it was the equivalent of doodling Olivia Clark in her notebook freshman year. A silly wishful thing that she would never show anyone. Honestly, how had she fallen for Carson so quickly and completely? She was used to holding back when it came to guys, keeping part of herself in reserve. She’d never told a man that she loved him. You couldn’t really know that you loved someone until you’d been together for at least six months. And besides, the less you gave of yourself, the less it hurt when the guy left. And they invariably left.
During her dismal dating history, she’d had a succession of boyfriends who fell into one of three categories. 1) They had jobs that took them to other places. 2) They couldn’t see themselves settling down. Or 3) like Miles, they proved to be dishonest and disloyal.
Carson and she got along so effortlessly, and if he was thinking of their children, he didn’t have commitment issues. If he stayed in the area, perhaps things would work out between them. The L-word seemed to be already there, flitting in her mind, making her feel light, alive, and undoubtedly stupid. She would wait until he told her he loved her to say it back. She would at least show that much self-preservation.
On Sunday, Mr. Clark was supposed to return to Lark Springs, but he apparently had a lot of vacation time saved up because he decided to stay for “a few more days.” Lucas had at least been fun to work with. Mr. Clark was all business. Seriously, the man never seemed to smile.
On Tuesday, she and Mr. Clark were with the crew in the family room finishing up the hardwood floor installation. A little before noon, she heard a woman’s voice from the front door. “Hello? Carson, are you here?”
He wasn’t. He was out on the property somewhere with the landscapers.
Mr. Clark got to his feet. His puzzled expression showed that he wasn’t expecting anyone. “We’re in here,” he called. He wiped dust off his pants and strode toward the front door.
