Page 107 of Make Mine Sweet
I pass August the two packages I set aside. “Can you give these to him?”
He takes them and trots to the other side of the patio. That’s right. I’m stooping to having August deliver the gifts. Ian’s already admitted he can’t say no to him.
Ian takes them, watching me from beneath scolding eyebrows. He unwraps one like he’s trying to defuse a bomb. Augustwasthe bomb when it was his turn to unwrap presents, decimating paper in a blink.
“That one’s from Mama,” August tells him.
“Is it?” Ian moves even slower. He peels back the paper, revealing a small leather case. He pauses, staring at it in his hand.
My heart pounds, desperate to know what he thinks of it. I can’t tell if he recognizes the stamped logo on the case. He swallows. Then carefully pulls out the vintage compass.
His gaze collides with mine, holding me in place as firmly as if his arms were around me. Emotions crash across his face. Gratitude. Surprise. Affection.More. His lips part, but no words come.
I lift a shoulder. He said he was lost. I want to help him find his way.
“What is it?” August wants to know.
Ian shows it to him. I picked up the classic brass compass at a secondhand store. They said it’s a good brand, but older and scuffed. Still works exactly as intended, though.
“It’s a compass.” His voice sounds gravelly as he points at the dial. “This needle helps you figure out where you are, and where you want to go.”
“Thank goodness,” Steven says. “You were always getting clients lost on trips.”
Laughter moves around as August grabs the other present. “This one’s from me.”
He wiggles the whole time Ian unwraps it.
“A joke book.” Ian holds it up like a trophy. “Just what I needed, buddy. Thank you.”
August is pleased as can be. His focus lasts about five seconds before he asks for a fire in the fire pit. Griffin offers to help, and he follows August into the yard to inspect what we’ve got. The rest of our little group disperses, cleaning up the dessert plates or taking empty seats around the two tables.
Ian slips his hat off and makes his way over until he’s standing in front of me, staring so intently my toes curl.
“Let’s help Griffin get that fire going.” Hope pulls Wren away, glancing between the two of us.
Honestly, I barely notice them.
Ian pulls me into his arms, holding me tight as if he’s trying to fuse all my cracked and broken pieces back together. Or maybe he’s trying to fix his. He sighs against me, pressing a kiss to my neck. Joy fizzes through me like I’m made of tiny, perfect bubbles. I’m not even sure my feet touch the ground.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
When he draws back, I’m ninety percent sure he’s going to kiss me in front of our families, but he must think better of it. “Can we talk tonight?”
“Of course.” As if I’m in the mood to deny him anything.
“Great.” He squeezes my shoulders, but if he’s tempted to lean in, he doesn’t indulge.
I wouldn’t mind a little indulgence.
August calls for him to join in the fire-starting adventure. Ian hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “I’d better go help.”
He leaves to take up position around the fire pit with the others. We haven’t used it yet, and frankly, I didn’t realize we had all the supplies for a fire. But Griffin’s arranging small pieces of wood in it and using the lighter I got out for the birthday candles. In a minute, they’ve got a good fire going. The sky is fading into twilight, blue deepening to purple, making the flames glow.
Iris and Steven approach me while I’m still gazing dreamy-eyed at Ian. I try to tone it down, but I can’t do anything about how flushed I still am after our hug.
“That cake was so good,” Iris tells me. She’s got short, black hair and olive skin. Her gorgeous turquoise necklace makes her look effortlessly stylish like Lila. “I’m a wedding photographer, and I can’t tell you how many times a cake looks beautiful but tastes like it’s been frozen for a month.”
“Thank you. I still make everything fresh.” And don’t intend to ever change.
