The Bachelor's Little Bonus (Proposals & Promises 3)

He returned with their drinks and a couple of fortune cookies for after the meal. Their food arrived at almost the same time. Stevie picked up her chopsticks and dug in enthusiastically, making Cole chuckle at her eagerness. “How is it?”

“It’s not sushi, but it’s good, anyway.”

He laughed and picked up his own chopsticks. Maybe for Cole, what they had was all he needed.

Maybe she should take a lesson from him.

* * *

They were able to start on the renovations the Thursday after the doctor’s appointment. Spring was trying its best to shoulder winter out of the way, leading to noisy thunderstorms and one night of severe weather warnings. Considering they lived in the middle of “tornado alley,” they’d decided to install a safe room in the garage while they were remodeling. The addition would add a week to the process but would provide a safe place for their little family to gather in dangerous weather. The shelter was Cole’s idea initially, but Stevie heartily agreed. She’d spent too many nights in her lifetime huddling in a hallway or bathroom waiting for the tornado sirens to stop wailing.

She got a little taste of how he must have felt for the past six weeks when they moved into his house to avoid the mess created by the staircase reconstruction in her hallway. She didn’t know where everything was, she bumped her shins on the furniture when the lights were off, the mattress on his bed felt different and her clothes were crowded into the extra space he made for her. It was a nice house, but it wasn’t home. Maybe it was a good thing Cole didn’t get attached to houses and possessions, she reflected ruefully. He’d adjusted much more easily to being surrounded by someone else’s things than she would have. Even Dusty seemed to handle displacement better!

“When we get settled back into our house,” she said as she and Cole sat at the kitchen table for dinner the second night, “we need to integrate your things there more. Are there any special pieces of furniture you want to move over? I’m sure we can make a place for anything you’d like to keep.”

He glanced around as if the option had never occurred to him. “I’ll keep my desk and office chair, of course. But all my work stuff will fit into the new office.”

“What about any other furniture you particularly like?” He didn’t possess more than the basics, and she hadn’t noticed anything that looked as though it might be an heirloom, but maybe there was something that had sentimental attachment to him.

“Not really, no. Your stuff is nicer. We can have a tag sale with mine or rent the house furnished.”

“You don’t have any mementos from childhood or college stashed in boxes somewhere? Things you want to keep?”

“I have a box in my closet with a few things like that,” he said, slicing into the smothered pork chop she’d cooked for him. “It’s not very big. I’ll keep it in the closet of the new office.”

She suspected those private treasures were things that had belonged to Natasha. She certainly didn’t mind him hanging on to them. She would never be so petty that she would want him to forget his first wife or the few years he’d been allowed with her. It occurred to her that she’d never even seen a photograph of Natasha. Cole kept no framed photos out for display.

Had there been passion in his marriage? Had he and Natasha ever lost their tempers or even quarreled? He’d said she was very ill for some time. Had forewarning eased his loss, or had the grief been raw and devastating? Did it still tear at him sometimes, or had he packed those emotions away with that box in his closet?

“Stevie?” She glanced up to find him watching her quizzically from the other side of the table. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?”

She smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine. Just thinking about all we have to do during the next few weeks.”

“Oh.” That seemed to satisfy him. “Don’t worry, it’ll get done. I’ve got some free time tomorrow. Thought I’d work in the nursery while the crew’s dealing with the staircase.”

He’d volunteered to take care of emp

tying the small bedroom in preparation for the new nursery furniture they’d ordered. The walls had a few dents and nail holes to patch and the trim needed to be taped off before he could apply the rich cream color she’d chosen for the walls.

“Isn’t there anything I can do for you here?” she asked. “Things I can pack or sort or something? I want to help as much as possible with this transition.”

Finishing his dinner, he carried his dishes to the sink, collecting hers on the way. “I guess you could sort my closet some if you get bored. It’s been a while since I’ve been through my wardrobe and I suspect some of the stuff in there needs to go straight into a donations bin.”

From what she’d seen, his wardrobe consisted mostly of pullovers and jeans for working at home, with a couple of sport coats and dress shirts and slacks—and a few of the hated ties, she thought with a smile. “I’ll look through your things and make a pile of items that could be questionable, though I’d never get rid of anything without checking with you.”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t bother me. If you’d be embarrassed to be seen with me wearing anything you find in there, toss it.”

“I’d never be embarrassed to be seen with you,” she assured him, rising to refill her water glass.

“Oh, yeah? Not even if I do this?” He mugged a classic horror-movie-Igor pose, hunching a shoulder, dragging an arm, making a silly face.

Delighted with his rare lapse into absurdity, she gave a peal of laughter and tousled his hair. “Not even then. You’re such a cutie.”

Growling, he straightened and caught her in his arms. “There’s that word again. I keep telling you, I’d rather you see me as manly and sexy.”

He never forgot anything, she thought with another laugh. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she went up on tiptoes and brushed a kiss over his smiling mouth. “What a coincidence,” she murmured. “That’s exactly the way I see you. Most of the time.”

Chuckling, he drew her into a heated kiss that definitely made this one of those times.