Page 47 of Pretty

He kissed my head. “Is that wake enough for you?”

“I’m ready to go back to bed,” I replied in a tired voice.

He laughed. “Not hardly. We have to leave today, and it’s—a few minutes after ten. They should be bringing our brunch soon. Hop in the shower,” he ordered with a smack to my ass.

I dragged myself out of bed and headed to the shower. We were almost done washing when we heard someone knocking at the door. Drew rinsed, hopped out of the shower, and grabbed a towel.

By the time I made it out of the bathroom, I heard someone leaving and thanking him for his autograph.

I leaned lazily against the bedroom doorjamb, wrapped in a towel, watching him as he set a single red rose on the lanai table where our brunch was set up.

He turned and spotted me, and a lazy grin crossed his lips.

“Is that for me?” I asked.

“Is that for me?” he repeated, pointing at my body.

“It’s all for you, babe.”

“I thought you’d like to eat out here close to the flowers. I know that you’ve been enjoying them.”

“I have, and thanks for the art supplies again.”

There was some paint supplies included with the other items he bought me. Each evening, I sketched something different. The first thing he’d done was take me back to that cliff so that I could paint the view. I had sketched a beautiful beach scene, some ruins on the island that we’d visited, and the garden. I couldn’t wait to get home and paint them all.

I walked to the table and sat across from him. He’d ordered plenty of food, and I was glad because after our lovemaking session last night and our lusty screw session this morning, I had worked up a voracious appetite.

“This food is so delicious.” I moaned and shoved a forkful of sausage gravy and biscuits into my mouth.

“Glad you’re enjoying it.”

I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “I’ve enjoyed everything about this vacation, everything about you, Drew. I love you so much.”

“Not nearly as much as I love you, woman. Where do you see us in five years, Pretty?”

“You and me?”

“Yeah.”

“Hopefully, if we’re still together in five years, we’ll be married—with children. Maybe we’ll be taking a vacation much like this one today. We might be traveling to my father’s hometown in France. Or we could be hosting charity events together to bless those who are less fortunate. I’ll probably have an art studio, and you might have a series of football camps across the region for at-risk youth.

“We could be traveling through South America or the South of France. We might be knee-deep in soccer mom and dad duties or manning cookie booths in front of stores. Whatever we’re doing, I’ll be happy as long as I’m doing it with you, babe,” I declared, reaching out and grabbing his hand across the table.

We finished the rest of our brunch before we packed up. In the midst of packing, I stopped to use the restroom.

“What’s this for?” I asked when I returned from the bathroom. There was a large pack of Reese’s Pieces in my luggage, my favorite candy.

“Just a little treat for you on the ride to the airport.”

“You’re so sweet, babe. Thank you.” I waved the candy in the air.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ve got something for you too.”

“What’s that?” he asked when I walked over and handed him an envelope.

“Open it.”