Page 86 of A Labor of Hate
He offered a slight smile.“Shall we open them at the same time?”
I nodded eagerly, already picking at the meticulous wrapping job.I tried to spare it.I really did.That lasted all of fifteen seconds before I gave up and ripped it apart.
I pulled out the first item, as gleeful as a child on Christmas morning.“No.Way.You didn’t!”
A pair of navy blue socks with white and pink llamas dotting them.Similar to my lucky cow socks, but without the coffee stains.These ones would go with my pajamas perfectly.
“I love them so much,” I breathed, holding them like a precious heirloom.
His smile widened into a genuine Colt grin, his eyes curved with happiness and white teeth on display.One corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other, the asymmetry giving him a roguish quality.“There’s another thing.”
I gingerly placed the precious socks on the bed beside me and grinned.A DVD with Sylvester Stallone in suspenders and a pinstripe suit, dangling off a clock on the cover.“Oscar?”
“I hoped it was a cult classic you don’t already own a hard copy of.”His smile faltered, his eyebrows pulling together uncertainly.“Do you?”
I shook my head, too gobsmacked to utter more than a breathless “thank you” as I tackled him in a hug.He instinctively stilled for a second before squeezing me back, his hand in my hair as he inhaled deeply.
“You smell amazing,” he groaned, his words muffled against my head.“Like pineapples and coconut.It’s always driven me nuts.”
That piña colada body wash in the shower just became my new favorite item in this house.Second only to my anniversary gift.
My blood buzzed with contentment.I loved being privy to his thoughts.That he felt safe enough with me to share them.“For what it’s worth, your cologne does the same for me.”
Including right now.His spicy, clean scent was one I was coming to associate withhome.
When we pulled away, I frowned at the unopened gift by his side.“We were supposed to open ours at the same time.”
“I tried” —he smirked— “but you wrapped it in a foot of tape.”
I cuffed him playfully on the arm.“I had to make sure it would stay put, okay?”
“With this amount of tape, I’m afraid there’s a live animal inside that you had to restrain.”He ineffectually picked at the wrapping paper.
In the end, I put us all out of our misery and helped him rip it open.
He pulled the first item out, cocking his head to the side as he surveyed it.“A notebook?”
“Apocket-sizednotebook.For when you fill up the one you’ve got.And,” I tapped the book, “I’ve included Dekker’s secret buttercream recipe in the back.”I sobered.“Don’t tell her I gave you that, actually.It’s like a family heirloom.”
He nodded, a smile threatening on his lips.“Your secret is safe with me.”
“Good.”I gestured impatiently at the box.“Now open the rest.”
“Pushy, pushy,” he muttered, though he grabbed the next item out anyway.His eyes widened, another delicious smile pulling the corner of his mouth up.“How did you get this?”
I shrugged, trying to pretend I wasn’t glowing like a Christmas tree from his reaction.It had taken a while to find the perfect book to add to his collection, but I was confident I’d nailed it.The newest thriller from his favorite author, which had only come out this week.“The last gift is the ironic one.”
His attention lingered on my face, features soft and eyes smoldering, before pulling the last gift out of the box.“‘It’s accrual world,’” he read, holding the white mug aloft.His lips twitched.“An accounting pun, huh?”
“To go with your coaster.”I beamed, supremely proud of myself for this one, and lowered my voice.“It memorializes our time…here, and it’ll convince everyone you have a sense of humor.”
He sent me a flat look.
“Everyone who only sees what they want to see when it comes to you,” I specified, the unspokenlike I used tohanging in the air between us.I scooted closer and spoke even softer.“And it’s ironic because it’s a coffee cup, but you only drink apple juice.You know, an accounting mug for someone who looks like an accountant but is…so much more, that looks like it’s holding coffee, but it isn’t.It’s a metaphor for the past month, don’t you think?”
“I’m not entirely convinced you know what a metaphor is.”
This earned him another playfulthwackto the arm.
