Heath frowned and then took the computer from my lap, adding approximately two dozen toys before pulling his credit card from his wallet and buying them all. I bit my lip, overwhelmed with gratitude.
He kissed my temple and pulled me into a hug, muttering, “I’ve got you, Clare. Both of you.”
And he did, so I sucked in a shaky breath and let it go.
Then I made him the biggest, best chicken masala he’d ever tasted that night for dinner.
It was a double win because Heath hated Elisabeth’s food. It wasn’t that her food was necessarily bad, but she was such a picky eater that she put odd flairs on every dish. Meatloaf with mustard. Pot roast with weird white gravy, and gyros made with beef instead of lamb. I was more of a traditionalist, and not to brag, but there were never leftovers.
I tried to help Elisabeth as much as I could. I’d spent hours weeding, pruning, and trimming her flowerbeds to get them back into decent shape. And I’d promised her that, as soon as spring came, I’d help her plant flowers. I also did my best to earn my keep when it came to the house. While we were relatively neat people, nine of us were living under one roof if you included Alex, Devon, Jude, and Ethan, who often rotated through. Quarters got cramped sometimes, but no one had killed anyone yet. I chalked that up as a success.
“Do you think we have enough wrapping paper?” I asked him, lifting my mug to my lips for that first glorious sip of coffee.
His attention remained on the frying pan as he replied, “I think we have enough paper to wrap the state of Georgia. An entire rainforest will be crying in the morning.”
I giggled, and he aimed a panty-drenching grin in my direction, some of his hair falling over his forehead and into his eyes.
“You need a haircut. Want me to do it? I bet Roman has some clippers or something. I could clean up the sides.”
He twisted his lips and flipped the bacon in the pan. “You saying my hair looks like shit?”
“No. I’m offering to do you a favor. Considering you’ve kind of weighted your side of the scales, I owe you at least a million favors by now.”
He scowled at me. “There are no scales with us.”
I set my coffee on the counter and slid up behind him, looping my arms around his hips and resting my cheek between his shoulder blades. “There are always scales, Heath. A haircut won’t even them, but it’ll be a start.”
He shoved the bacon off the burner. Then he turned in my arms and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “You know how to cut hair?”
“Yep. I grew up poor and in a shitty trailer park—not to be confused with the good trailer park.” I grinned. “When I was twelve, I got my dad’s clippers and started offering five-dollar haircuts to make some money…to, ya know, eat. Well, the good thing about being poor in a shitty trailer park is that everyone’s poor. Five dollars a pop was a steal. I had to start taking appointments.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You any good?”
“I am now. I was shit at first. But hey, it was five bucks. No one complained.”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “You said you were a waitress when you met Noir. Why weren’t you doing hair if you’re so good?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t have the money for school. I only graduated high school because it was free and it kept me busy. I had to get out and get a job. Higher education wasn’t a luxury I could afford.”
His hand glided up my back, squeezing the back of my neck as he asked, “Did you like it? Cutting hair, I mean.”
I squinted one eye and looked over his shoulder, trying to remember what seemed like a lifetime ago. “Ummm…I liked the money. I liked that I was good at it. I liked that I was able to give people something they normally wouldn’t have been able to afford. But no, I don’t think I necessarily liked doing it.”
He gave my neck another squeeze. “And what do you think you would have enjoyed doing?”
“I don’t know. When I was a kid, I always wanted to open a little garden shop. Nothing big, but one where little old ladies could pop in and talk about what flowers were in season while their husbands bought hoses and ugly gnomes.”
I got another lip twitch, but this time, it was followed by a lip touch.
He glanced up at Tessa before allowing his hand to slide down to my ass. “That’s how you balance the scales, Clare. You open that sexy mouth and use it to tell me about yourself. I don’t need favors. I need you.”
Oh. My. God.
Heath’s blanket of warmth didn’t just wrap around me.
It enveloped me.
Head to toe.
Mind and soul.
My vision swam, and he brought his lips back down for another lip touch. “No crying. Your Christmas bacon’s ready.”
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
His hands flinched. “Why?”
“Because, if you keep being this sweet, there is a really good chance I’m going to fall in love with you.” I was only half joking. I was already in love with Heath; that falling crap was history.
He chuckled. “It’s about damn time you caught up.”