Page 85 of Mountain Wood

Why does he sound so convincing? “Will you promise me if I get to be too much, you’ll tell me?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Promise me, Dean.” I pull away from him a little. “Please.”

His dark brown eyes meet mine and his facial features go from hard to soft. “I promise. But only if you do the same for me.”

“Tell you if I’m a burden to myself?”

“No. Tell me if I’m too needy. Too overbearing and suffocating.” He shakes his head and looks at the pancakes. “I’m an acts of service kind of guy. I was worried this morning that maybe I’m going to drive you crazy trying to make you stay in my bed. Cabin fever, remember?”

“It’s nice to be taken care of,” I say quietly. “It’s also nice to be productive and needed.”

His brows pinch.

“I love that you want to spoil me. But… I really, really love helping you with work around here.”

“You’ve been a huge help, Grace. Truly. The drywall and cabinets went up in half the time with you by my side.”

“I want to keep doing it.” Being by his side. Screwing holes in things. Sanding stuff down. Leaning back on his pillows, I sigh. “I’m scared I’ve bulldozed into your life in every way possible.”

“I don’t see it that way.” He plucks the tray from the table and sets it between us. Then he starts cutting up the pancakes and feeds me a bite. “I think you came into my life when I needed you most.”

“I pushed to stay through winter. I’m now in your house.”

“You’re also in my thoughts, my bed, and… I hope like hell you’ll be in my future.”

I want that more than anything.

“Take another bite for me.” He raises the fork to my mouth, offering me a piece of maple syrup drenched pancake. Sweetness bursts on my tastebuds when I eat it. “That’s my good girl.”

He feeds me the entire stack of pancakes like this. One bite at a time. One praise after another.

“I love bread and haven’t had it in forever,” I say, licking the corners of my mouth. “My trainer wouldn’t allow it. She said carbs go straight to your ass.”

Dean schools his expression and holds out the OJ for me to drink. “Well, I’m never going to tell you what you can and cannot eat. And whatever your ass looks like, I’m going to attack it.”

The weight on my chest eases. “I hope so.”

“You’re not a show pony, Grace. You’re a woman. A terrifyingly brilliant, gorgeous woman. Nothing you eat will change that. Nothing you wear will either. And I’m here to love all of it.” He holds up a piece of bacon. “Eat.”

I polish off the whole tray of food by myself. “Wait. You didn’t have any,” I realize once he’s put the fork down.

“Oh, I’m about to have my meal. Don’t you worry.” He clears the way and spreads my legs. “My breakfast is hot, juicy, and perfect to eat in bed.”

Chapter 21

Dean

Grace is currently vacuuming. I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I hate it because I don’t want her lifting a finger. On the other, the smile on her face is so serene, I can’t deny I’d let her do anything if it meant basking in her happiness.

The bonus is Oscar’s running around her like a tornado, which keeps Grace laughing hysterically.

I honestly don’t think this house has ever been so happy.

When I was a kid, I was angry a lot. Even when Grandpa tried to make living with him fun, I still had an irrationally quick temper for the first couple of years. With time, I got over my resentment for being a child my parents didn’t want, because I realized I was wanted and loved by someone much better. I made friends. Had hobbies. There was also plenty of work around here, which I loved, because staying busy makes me happy.

But Grandpa and I were never really goofy with each other. He was serious all the time and kept to himself. My grandmother passing a year before I moved in broke some fundamental part of him and I couldn’t fix it. I’d often catch him holding a photo of her close to his chest as he sipped his morning coffee on the back porch. Or late at night when we’d have abonfire going in the back. Towards the end, when his health declined rapidly, he chucked the photo in the fireplace and let it burn to ash.

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