Page 80 of Wishing Hearts

I crack a smile, not surprised. “How ’bout waffles and eggs, all right?”

“Fine,” she mutters, going back to her show.

I swing by the downstairs bathroom and relieve my bladder before heading into the kitchen. Luckily, I left my waffle-maker here, so I get it plugged in before setting to work on the batter. Harrison joins me before long, looking all sleep-rumpled and adorable in his sweats and a soft blue t-shirt. My gut swoops and rolls at the sight.

“What?” Harrison asks, rubbing at his eye as he grabs eggs from the fridge.

“Nothin’,” I reply. “You’re cute, is all.”

He huffs a laugh, squinting at me. “I think you need your eyes checked.”

I scoff, setting down my whisk and stepping up behind the man. He leans back against my chest with a sigh, and I wrap my arms around him tight. “Stud, you’re a damn fine sight all the time, but right now? First thing in the mornin’ when you haven’t had your caffeine yet and there’s a pillow line across your cheek? I consider myself lucky to be able to see you like this.”

He hums, and I nuzzle behind his ear. He smells fresh, soft, and warm, like biscuits right out of the oven.

“Plus,” I say, kissing his neck swiftly. “Knowin’ that yawnin’ mouth of yours was wrapped around my dick just eight hours ago?” I rumble my appreciation as I recall that very thing. Harrison’s mouth. His body clamped around me tight as he rode me. That damn toy he stuck up my ass that nearly drove me out of my mind. Christ.

“Sam,” Harrison rasps, likely remembering the same thing.

I give him a squeeze. “Don’t ever doubt how much I want you, all right?”

That earns me a soft smile, and satisfied, I head back over to the waffle batter.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” I ask, pouring out the first waffle.

“Well,” Harrison says, clearing his throat. “I thought, maybe, we could go camping in the backyard.”

My head whips around so fast, I nearly get whiplash. “Really?”

Harrison chuckles. “Yeah, really.”

“All right,” I say excitedly, mind whirring. “So, I’ll needa run home and get the tent. And then did you wanna pick up that fire pit you were lookin’ at? We’ll need stuff for s’mores, too, and prob’ly a sleepin’ bag for Winnie, unless she already has one? I have a couple adult sizes, but she’ll need somethin’ warm, don’tcha think?”

“Sam,” Harrison says, smile on his face. “We’ll get everything squared away. We have plenty of time. Take a breath.”

“Right,” I say, nodding along. “D’you think Winnie would like makin’ popcorn over the fire?”

Harrison laughs, cracking eggs into a bowl, and I wonder if this is what it feels like to make plans for more than myself.

I like it. I like it a lot.

“There we go,” I say, snapping the final tent post into place. “Voila.”

Winnie claps slowly, two times, the little sass-monster. Apparently, pitching the tent is not the exciting part of camping.

“Can we make s’mores now?” she asks.

That’s the exciting part.

“Soon,” Harrison replies from beside the new fire pit. A small orange flame is flickering in the metal bowl, and he prods the wood pile with a stick, getting a better burn going.

“Wanna help me get the inside ready while we wait, li’l miss?” I ask.

Winnie grumbles, but she picks herself up off the grass and comes over to where I’m standing. I toss her a sleeping bag before grabbing the rest of the supplies, and we crawl inside the tent. It’s a fairly decent size. Not tall enough for me to stand up, but Winnie can just manage it. She sets down her sleeping bag, looking bored until I pull out a strand of battery-powered fairy lights.

“What’re those?” she asks.

“They’re our stars,” I reply, using a few pieces of tape to string the lights along the top of the tent. Winnie waits patiently, and once in place, I flick the power on.

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