Page 28 of Easy On Me

“You’re not running into those in the Country Crossings parking lot with your new boyfriend.”

“I’m your boyfriend?” I quirked a brow and grinned, then landed a soft pinch on her thigh. “I like the sound of that, sugar dumpling.”

Uncertainty flickered over her face. “I guess we haven’t said what we are yet, and it’s pretty soon–”

“Oh, no. No backsies.” Releasing my seatbelt, I shifted to face her. I tucked her dark hair behind her ear. “You claimed me and now you’re stuck with me.”

“It might be the other way around.” That dejected pout made me want to kiss her until she smiled. All her expressions fascinated me – she fascinated me – but I didn’t like that defeated set to her mouth.

I hooked a hand around her nape. “Really don’t know what to do with you in this mood.”

“Ugh. Are you saying I’m moody?”

“Nope.” I caressed the soft skin under her hair at the base of her skull. “Listen, I get you’re stressed, but I know my grandma. She liked you then, and the way she was happy to see you tonight? That was genuine. All my parents are going to care about is whether I’m happy with you. I already think you and Mama will get on like a house on fire.”

She scoffed, rubbing her thumb over the side seam on her jeans. “People don’t make you happy. That’s not how it works.”

“Well, they can sure make you unhappy. Trust me.” With my free hand, I tipped her chin up, although her lashes kept her eyes veiled. I didn’t quite know what to do with this vulnerable version of her, for real. “How about I feel more secure with you?”

Her lashes flew up, so I caught a glimpse of surprise as well as the gold flecks in her hazel eyes. Her brows knit together, and she dug her teeth into a bottom lip. “I make you feel secure.”

“Well, yeah. It’s early, but I always know where I stand.” I shrugged. “You’re not yelling because I–”

She buried her face in her hands and groaned.

Reaching for her wrist, I lowered her hand. “What?”

On a frustrated sigh, she shoved her hair back, the heavy fall of dark strands ruffled. “I yelled at Colt. More like, I screamed at him. Right before we broke up, and he didn’t even do anything. But he was always shutting down and he wouldn’t talk to me, just get all broody, and I thought I was doing something wrong but I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what it is. I told him that, but he just looked at me. Then I felt like I’d kicked a puppy or something, which I kinda did, and I have worked so hard not to be her anymore–”

“Hey.” I cupped her jaw, wincing because I knew the tips of my fingers were callused and right now she needed easy and gentle and soft. With careful pressure, I tilted her face toward mine and found her eyes dry but brimming with pain and self-recrimination. “One bad moment doesn’t mean your whole character is bad. It means you’re human.”

Her throat moved with a hard swallow. “I’m the one who made him unhappy.”

“Don’t think you get to take the credit for that, sugar. He . . . well, he carries a lot. You carry a lot. I imagine neither of you could carry anything else for one another.”

She sniffled. I shifted closer and kissed her cheek, over that high cheekbone that had fired red with embarrassment earlier. She went still, a slight stiffening that pushed a sigh up in my throat. I swallowed it. Now I had a better picture of what her life had been growing up, so that reticence she wore like a worn-in sweater made sense.

I rested my cheek against hers, catching a whiff of the scents I now associated with her – a clean, subtle perfume, the fruitier smell of whatever she used on her hair, the warmth of her skin. Cataloguing the moment away so I could pull it out and soak it in again later, I rubbed my thumb over her wrist.

“You could stay the night,” I whispered near her ear, grinning when she shivered. “It’s early still. We could watch a movie or something. I’ll make you some hot chocolate–”

Her torn giggle puffed against my neck. “Hot chocolate.”

“Sure. With milk instead of water so you don’t know it’s the powdered stuff.” I trailed my palm along her spine. “I get up wicked early during harvest season anyway, so I can run you home to get dressed.”

“Wicked early.” I could hear her rolling her eyes.

“But you get to sleep in my bed.” I caught the edges of her hair between my fingers and played with the dark silk. She was soft all over. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Do I get to pick the movie?”

“Depends.” I lifted my head, eyeing her with my best approximation of Grandma’s teacher look. “I hate those Hallmark movies.”

“Oh, me, too.” She shrugged, her face no longer pale with nerves, the awful tension about her mouth dissipating. “I like disaster movies. And aliens. Ooh. Independence Day.”

“That movie’s old as shit.” I propped my wrist on her headrest, glad to see a spark of excitement in her eyes. “It’s not terrible, though.”

“Look, young Jeff Goldblum is hot.” She gathered her purse and released her seatbelt.