Total pages in book: 203
Estimated words: 199654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 998(@200wpm)___ 799(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 998(@200wpm)___ 799(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
“What color do you like the most?” I ask, examining the wood stain palette in my hand.
“Told you already, doesn’t matter to me. Pick the stain you like the most.”
“But what if the one I like today isn’t the one I’ll like in a few years. I should pick something timeless. Something that matches the stain on the banister. Or some washable white paint like I have on the bookshelves at my parents’. Then I can do it myself and white goes with everything.”
“Not unless you want them white. Then I’ll do the painting. And if you want to change it later, I’ll strip and re-stain them, paint them, I’ll even be-fucking-dazzle them if that makes you happy.”
He uses his circular saw to cut another piece of wood.
I laugh at the notion of bedazzling. I got a bedazzling gun for my tenth birthday and bedazzled the heck out of my room, clothes, shoes, and even my backpack. Jase gave me so much shit for it back then.
When the machine stops buzzing, I say, “That’s an awful lot of work.”
“Not if it’s something that’ll make you happy. That makes it my honor.”
I know I’m now wearing a goofy smile, but with the way he’s looking at me, I don’t even care. I can be my goofy, dorky self all the time with him. I can be entirely just me with him. What a feeling.
“This is a big job. You should call some of the council guys. Save some time.”
“Nope,” he denies. “These shelves are one of my mating gifts to you. They’re being done entirely by me. I’ll have it all together as fast as I can while making sure I don’t half-ass it.”
“You don’t half-ass anything, Jase,” I tell him with honesty.
And the burning look in his eyes has me thinking he’s fighting the urge to abandon the project and show me just how thorough he can be.
He let the delivery guys carry my chair upstairs but trucked the wood up the stairs himself. He made way too many trips and didn’t even get winded. Of course I told him to call Grey or one of the other guys for help, but he refused. He also flatly refused to let me carry a single thing up the stairs. He wants this project to be 100% all him for me and it’s so flippin’ sweet I could just melt.
“You don’t have to rush,” I tell him.
“I want this done for you,” he says in a serious tone. “Pick the stain you want. If you want it changed later, I’ll change it. And don’t just pick whatever matches that banister. If you don’t like the banister stain, I can sand it and redo it to match whatever you pick for the shelves.”
“Um…I was thinking of the dark walnut, but now I think maybe the amber. Then if I change my mind and want to change it and go darker it might be easier on you for redoing them doing light to dark instead of dark to light.”
“Don’t worry about what’s easier. Worry about telling me what you want.”
“Okay, but still… I think this one.” I point to one called amber.
“Done.”
“You said gifts. Plural.”
He smiles. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
“What do you want as my mating gift to you?” I ask.
He looks off, deep in thought for a second before he says, “Can’t think of a single thing I want for myself that I don’t have now that I’ve got you.”
My chin quivers and tears fill my eyes. “You don’t have to keep trying so hard.”
Though I do love the effort he’s putting in.
“This isn’t me trying to impress you. This is me showing you I’m fucking happy that you’re mine. Besides, you’ll be giving me gifts soon enough. And though I’m not in a big hurry for them, I’ll be thrilled whenever they come, be it this year, next year, or five years out.”
His eyes devour me from head to toe, then they’re on my face again before he unnecessarily explains. “Babies.”
I smile wide.
I’ve spent most of my life doing whatever I could do to get close to him at every available opportunity, daydreaming he’d some day accept my love. And here we are now. He sees me. He wants me. And I can get as close to him as I want for the rest of my days. So, I do.
As I’m moving his way, my intent clear, he spins his baseball cap backwards, ready for a smooch, but the motion of him doing that is so fucking hot, I trip over my feet and over his tool bag, which makes him cuss as he catches me.
“I love you,” I tell him. “And I don’t need more gifts.”
He kisses the top of my head and runs his palms up and down my back, stopping on my backside and squeezing. “Well, you’re getting more surprises whether you want them or not. And I love you, too.”