Page 39 of Love and Other Trials
He tipped her head up and caressed her cheek. “You’re entitled to your bad mood. But I don’t think you should go to bed like this. I’d like to help you feel better. If you’ll let me.”
Because she had to want it. Despite having the fix-it gene, he knew a person had to make the choice. Be responsible for themselves and their emotions. He waited to see what she would do.
When she made a face at him, crossing her eyes, he smiled in relief. “I like that look on you.” He gave her one right back, scrunching his face up so tightly he felt like his eyes might get stuck that way. “What about this?”
“I’d keep a photo of you making that face.” She pressed a soft kiss to his chest. “Heck, I’d make it the screen saver on my phone.”
He felt like he had leaped out of an airplane, tumbling down through the air—the best sensation on earth other than being in the cockpit. “How about we take one together? Because I want to put it on my phone too.”
She gave him a considering look. “Talk like that only makes me like you more, and Dax… I already like you a hell of a lot.”
He tapped her nose because kissing her again didn’t feel on the table quite yet. “Ditto.”
“I like a man with brevity.” She smiled more easily and left him to grab her phone before pressing close to him. “Okay. Give me your best face. One, two, three. Cheese!”
Stretching his mouth wide and tipping his head to the right, he was sure he’d delivered. She went with strongly clenched features and an open mouth to the left. After she took the photo, she lifted it so both of them could see.
“Hideous!” she cried with delight. “I love it! High five.”
He smacked his hand to hers as he watched her put it as her screen saver. Speaking in a British accent in the hopes it would make her laugh, he said, “Text it to me. I need that, Elizabeth. Its immortal quality will always speak to me.”
“That’s a terrible accent,” she said as she sent it to him. She was laughing—a miracle. He’d roll out a dozen awful accents if they’d make her laugh. “When did Stephan become British?”
He felt his phone vibrate in his pants and dug it out. His mood deflated a bit, seeing no text from Rob. He shouldn’t be surprised. It was weird between them right now, and they both knew it. “Stephan was imitating that British guy all you chicks love in that Jane Austen flick. What’s it called?Pride and Penetration?”
That had her erupting in gales of laughter. “That’s a good one. You’re thinking of a different version of the movie. I think we’ll go with the Keira Knightley version. Yes, you know what? Good call. I think that’s our movie choice tonight.”
He groaned. “Oh, no! You’re not going to do that to poor ol’ Stephan.”
She gave a sexy saunter as she walked over to the entertainment center. “You bet I am.”
He didn’t argue, and that’s when he knew for sure.
He’d fallen for her but good.
NINE
Ariel groanedas she looked at her phone calendar, still tucked in bed. God, how could it only be Monday? And why did family time seem to take so much longer? It was like all the baggage everyone was carrying ground time to a freaking halt.
She didn’t know how she was going to make it to the wedding, let alone through it.
Then she heard someone moving around in the hallway, clearly trying to be quiet, but there were a couple of squeaky floorboards, and he’d stepped on one.
The thought of Dax was like a fire burst or a bite of saltwater taffy on a perfect summer day.
“Good morning, sunshine!” she called out, feeling the weight of eternity lift as she flung off the covers and flew out of bed, opening the door. “How about chicken and waffles to start the day?”
He leaned against her doorjamb, his shoulders taking up the whole space. His Navy T-shirt was damp with sweat, suggesting he’d just returned from a run. He looked hot and vital and smelled like man, nature, and spice. Another bonus. He hadn’t shaved yet, and goodness, did he look good enough to eat. Add in some maple syrup, and she’d never want to stop.
“Good morning to you too,” he answered with a grin, “and that sounds perfect. I need to shower. Five minutes?”
“Terrific.” She tugged his shirt into her hands and pulled him close until his head was inches above hers. “Also…thank you for last night. I know it wasn’tPride and the Pickle Jar.”
His deep rumbling laughter had her bare toes curling. “Did I say that? Hmm… Mine involved penetration, I believe. Yours sounds like a mystery by Agatha Christie.”
Penetration.That might be the sexiest word in the entire English language, she decided, breathless now.
“Oh, honey.” She swatted his chest, feeling happy and daring. “Come here and give me a proper good morning.”
