Page 31 of Lace 'em Up

“What are Everything cookies?” he asks.

My pulse speeds, mind spinning.

Then I hear my dad’s voice again, and it settles me.

Be brave and kind.

I blow out a silent breath and smile at him. “They’re my specialty,” I say, offering up the plate. “Want to try one?”

He’s still and focused, but then his mouth turns up at the corners, just slightly, as he reaches forward and takes a cookie from the plate I’m offering. It’s huge—because cookies should be delicious and huge and not something that people skimp calories on—but it looks tiny in his hand.

Big and strong and fierce.

But…I’m not scared of him.

Maybe I should be, especially after Phillip.

But…I’m not.

“Fuck,” he snaps and I jump, skitter back a step.

Or maybe I am.

“Woman,” he says, wiping the crumbs from the corners of his lips, his gaze going disapproving, “this is just plain mean.”

My brows shoot up. “Um?—”

He takes the plate, holds it against his chest. “These are mine,” he says. “They’re going to make me absolutely sick with sugar and crap, but they’re all mine.”

I blink.

“My precious,” he says in a Gollum voice.

I blink again.

“Okay fine,” he says, “I’ll share one with you.”

I blink a third time.

And then, because the begrudging expression on his face is so freaking adorable, I find myself laughing. “Gee, thanks,” I mutter.

He winks but passes the plate back over. “Thanks, princess,” he says softly. “That was nice of you.”

“These are actually”—I return the plate—“for you.” I tilt my head toward the container I’d filled with the rest of the cookies. “And those are too.” I shrug. “I know it’s not much, but sugary, not-good-for-you cookies have excellent healing properties.”

He studies me closely.

Too closely.

“What about you?” he eventually asks. “Were you able to partake in those same healing properties?”

Something warm bubbles in my belly. I inhale, nod.

But he doesn’t press me further, just says, “Good.” Then goes to the fridge, pulls out the carton of milk, and pours himself a glass. “Do you want—?” He holds it up.

“No,” I whisper.

A nod before he puts it back, closes the door. “Work go okay?”

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