Page 84 of Mountain Wood

“For dick or breakfast?”

“Both.”

“Yes.”

He flashes me a wild grin and scoops me up. “First, you’re going back where you belong.” The man tosses me onto his bed so hard, I bounce. “Now stay.”

Oscar trots in, wagging her tail, and sits down like she’s following orders too.

We both know that’s not happening.

“I can help you make breakfast,” I argue, knowing damn well he’s going to say no. Yesterday I burned the bacon so badly it was unrecognizable, and I set off all his smoke alarms. The day before that, I made oatmeal that was as hard as cement.

“Let me take care of you, Grace.” He winks before leaving me alone in his room.

I don’t know how to feel about all this. The honeymoon phase of a relationship always makes me nervous, because it’s a ticking time bomb that will eventually go off. Only… we don’t have anything to hide from each other. I’m not on my best behavior with Dean. I’m not faking anything at all.

And he can’t seem to get enough of me.

But is he on his best behavior? Is this just an act? Anyone can be perfect temporarily. I can’t imagine Dean’s truly going to act like this for the rest of however long we have together. It’ll get draining for him. He’ll get frustrated and angry, eventually. He’ll want me gone.

My mother pokes my mind.“Do you really think a man will spend his life spoiling you all day and night, selfish girl?”

“Shut up.”

“You’re so privileged, you just expect people to be at your beck and call. Do you really think this man doesn’t have better things to do than make you coffee and cook your pancakes?”

“I’d do the same for him.”

“Yes, and what a disappointment you are in the kitchen.You’re just giving him more work to do. He’s going to leave you if you keep being a burden.”

My stomach clenches and eyes well with tears.

Dean bumps the door open with his ass and carries in a tray of food. “Here we go,” he says proudly, but the smile on his face instantly falls when he looks at me. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, swallowing around the tightness in my throat. I want to say “nothing” but if Iopen my mouth, I’m going to cry. So, I stay frozen in the bed.

“Grace.” He rests the tray on the bedside table and sits down next to me. His hand on my thigh is warm. Calming. “What’s she saying in your head, baby?”

He must think I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. Hearing your mother’s voice say mean things to you all the time must be on the list of red flags, right? Instead of blowing it off and pretending it’s nothing, I say, “I’m going to be a quesadilla.”

“Impossible.”

“What if, though?”

“Grace, I’m not going to get sick of you. Ever.” He kisses the top of my head. “Why would you think that?”

“I just keep thinking how perfect everything is. How perfectweare. But this is the honeymoon part. Soon, you’ll get sick of me, and I’ll be the quesadilla.”

“Is that really what you think?”

Yes. No. “I don’t want to burn you out.” Another tear falls. “You have so much work to do, and I’m taking up all your time and energy. It’s not right.”

“It’s my time and energy, so don’t I get a say in what I spend it on?” His hand is buried in my hair, at the back of my neck. “Hey.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Don’t you ever do something, or spend time with someone, and just being in their space makes you so super happy, you feel like you could fly? And then for the rest of the day and night you’ve got more energy than ten coffees can bring you?”

I’m like that with Nicole most of the time. We feed off each other a lot, which is always fun. And Ialways get wild bursts of happy energy whenever I even so much as look at Dean. “Yes.”

“Well, one minute in your sunshine, Grace, and I swear I could move this whole mountain.” He kisses my head again. “You willneverbe a burden to me. You will never be a drain on me either.”

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