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“When is his birthday?”
“January 20th.”
“And yours?”
“February 16th. Right after Valentine’s Day.”
“That’s better than having a birthday right before Christmas. With three kids, well, technically four with Noel, all born in December, combined birthday presents and sometimes even parties occurred quite a bit. Last year, we celebrated my brother’s birthday separate because we hadn’t been able to celebrate with him for years while he was deployed, but I have a feeling my mom is planning another joint party this year. It’s usually just dinner with family and friends, anyway. Last year was my 25th, so Tara and Sally took me to Vegas to celebrate and that was awesome.”
“When is your birthday?” he asked.
“December 10th.”
“Coming up quick. Birthdays weren’t a big deal with my parents, but I try to make it special for Jace.”
Merry held the gate for him until he passed through and then grabbed the front door. As Clark stepped into Merry’s home, the scent of Christmas cookies drifted around him, welcoming him into the surprisingly spacious inside. There were two steps to his right that led to an alcove with a U-shaped couch. On either side of the stairs were three shelves of knickknacks and pictures with a cupboard beneath. The kitchen ran along both walls, with a speckled counter top and white cupboards hanging above.
“You can drop that stuff by the stairs.”
Clark walked through the kitchen, noting the fridge, dishwasher, and oven were all stainless steel but smaller than normal kitchen appliances. The stairs climbed the left side into a loft bedroom and there were hooks underneath along with what he assumed was her hope chest.
“I like your place.”
Her cheeks flamed as she set her bags on the counter. “I am sorry I haven’t invited you in before. Not very neighborly of me.”
“I didn’t ask you either. When we get done carrying in all your purchases, you’ll have to give me the tour.”
“The only thing you haven’t seen is the bathroom and my bedroom, but I don’t think I’ll be taking you up there. I can’t guarantee it isn’t a mess.”
Clark nodded, his mind occupied with imagining Merry asleep, her plump lips parted, her face relaxed. What did she wear to bed?
Nope, no, dangerous train of thought.
“Are you coming?” she asked from the front door.
“Yeah, sorry.” He jogged down her front steps after her, checking on Jace as he passed through the gate and back to her car. His son was on the ground with his arms up, laughing as the puppy pounced on him.
“I may never get my son to come home with me,” Clark said.
Merry stepped out from around the back of the car, loaded down with plastic bags on each arm, and grinned. “I don’t believe that for a second. He might want to stay for a while, but you’re his home. I was always okay staying with friends for a night or two, but by the third day, I was ready to go home.”
“I really hope he feels that way. I’ve tried—” Clark’s voice broke with emotion, and he cleared his throat, trying to get past the lump that had formed. “I’ve tried to give him the kind of parent I always wanted. You never know if you’re making the right decisions, not until they get a little older.”
“I think you’re doing a wonderful job.”
Clark reached out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, murmuring, “What my brother said about you? It’s the truth. Your parents did one hell of a job on you, Merry Winters. You’re an amazing woman.”
Merry dropped her bags suddenly and threw her arms around him, catching him off guard. He stumbled back, his arms instinctively gripping her waist as she held him tight around his neck.
“Sorry, but you can’t say things like that to me and expect me not to hug you.”
Clark tightened his embrace, taking a deep breath, traces of vanilla and sugar drifting down his throat. Merry pulled away slightly, her hands sliding down from his neck across his chest. Her warm touch left a trail of heat through the flannel of his shirt and one of his hands skimmed up her back, along her spine, to rest on the back of her neck. Staring into those golden eyes with their ribbons of green, he didn’t want to look away, not even as his head dipped.
“I…Clark…I need to ask you…”
His other hand came up to cover hers, pressing it against him, inching closer to her lips. “What do you need to ask?”
“Are you—”
