Page 85 of All I Need (Hearts of the South)
She stopped at his side and peered inside the walk-in closet, where his wardrobe took up not quite half of the space, with half left waiting for her. She didn’t comment, but something about his making room for her in his life warmed her. He hooked his arm around her neck and leaned down for a kiss.
Arm about his waist, she hugged herself to him. “I brought dinner.”
“Awesome.” He dropped another quick kiss on her lips. “You just didn’t want me to make you a sandwich.”
“I’m so teaching you to cook.”
“You can try.”
On a light laugh, she pulled him toward the door, some of her weariness falling away in his presence. “Let’s eat before it gets cold. I had a granola bar for lunch, and I’m starved.”
As they unpacked containers of General Tso’s chicken, fried rice, and Chinese vegetables, she gestured at the boxes. “When did you have time to pack up all of the apartment?”
“I didn’t.” He bit into a crab Rangoon. “Those are from my storage unit.”
Leaning on the counter, she frowned. “What’s in them?”
A sheepish expression crossed his face. “About five years’ worth of Christmas and birthday gifts from my mom. She buys all this house stuff she thinks I need, right? And you know I’m about the basics. It makes her happy and this way it’s not in my way.”
“I don’t even…” She shook her head. “So why is it here?”
“There’s more room.” He twirled a finger to indicate the size of the common area. “I thought there might be some things you wanted to use here.”
“Your poor mother.” She grabbed the container of vegetables, stabbed a plastic fork in it, and headed for the first box. “Let’s see what you have.”
She unfolded the flaps to find dishes, cutlery, and glassware—classic, quality, and still in the original packaging. A laugh bubbled up from her chest. “It’s more like whatdon’tyou have. Em, really? She buys you great stuff and you put it in storage?”
He settled on the floor beside her, carton of General Tso’s chicken in hand, wrists balanced on his updrawn knees. “I think she confuses me with Clark sometimes. Hell, half the stuff in his kitchen? He stole it after Mama gave it to me.”
“That would explain why his casserole dishes match your serving ware.”
“And why the hell would I need serving ware?”
She ignored him. “Look at this gorgeous pasta server.”
“Is that what that is? I thought it was an ice scoop.”
“You’re hopeless.” She forked up a couple of bites of vegetables.
They ate while she discovered more forgotten treasures in each box—picture frames, glass lanterns, candlesticks, a couple of woven throws. She set her empty carton aside and ran a palm over the velvety fabric.
“I don’t think you need to actually buy anything for this house.” She glanced up to find his gaze, soft and clear, on her face and a smile playing about his mouth. “What?”
He shook his head, still looking at her. “Just thinking what a damn lucky man I am.”
The quiet intensity flustered her, and she defaulted to smartass teasing. “Because your mama buys you things?”
He didn’t rise to the bait. “Because you’re here with me.”
This time, she reached for him, curving a hand around his nape to pull his mouth down to hers, careful of his still-healing lip. She pulled back enough to see her own reflection in his eyes. “I believe you said something about trying out that brand-new bed?”
A lazy smile hitched at his mouth. “I kind of owe you slow and easy after the other night, don’t I?”
“We’re not keeping score, remember?” She rubbed her thumb lightly below his healing stitches. “We don’t have that kind of relationship.”
“Yeah.” With a quiet chuckle, he rolled to his feet and bent to gather the remnants of their dinner. After carrying the cartons and cups into the kitchen, he returned and held out a hand, then drew her into the bedroom.
Fiery rays of light danced over the polished floor. He stood before her and loosened her hair from its messy knot. He played his fingers through it, massaging her scalp, then cupped the back of her head, lifting her face to his. “You’re amazing.”
