“Do you have a sweet weakness?”
“I enjoy Pop-Tarts quite a bit.”
I was laughing again. “Pop-Tarts? Really? Any particular flavor?”
He laughed too, saying, “The ones with the colored sprinkles and the red jelly inside. I don’t know what they are, but I like them.”
“Strawberry. The kids love them, too.”
We stayed locked in our loose embrace. “Books?” he asked.
“We’re back to the mood-dictating thing again. I have several authors I enjoy, Orwell, Orson Scott Card, Austen, Winspear. Anything that makes me laugh. And I have a few choice historical romances for pure escape.”
“The first two aren’t lightweights. I’m a fan of the classics, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Bronte.”
I nodded. “A good story can be powerful.”
“Like yours,” he said, his hand smoothing a curl from my forehead. “Any news from New York and your publisher?”
I found myself leaning into his touch. “They want me to pick some dates and a few cities for a possible limited release tour. Shannon thinks I should make a stop in New York, too.”
“Are you thinking of New York as a possible home?” His brow rose in question.
“I’m trying to find a place I can afford, a place that’s a good fit for the kids.” I shook my head. “I know nothing about New York except that it’s too big a change for me and the kids. And the cost of living, there’s no way.” I shrugged. “I’m not in any real hurry, though. I’d hate to uproot them so close to the end of the school year. May isn’t so far away.”
“You’re a good mum, Claire.” He kissed me, his hands sliding around my waist.
“I want to be.” I kissed him back, my hands roaming over him. I sighed. “I like touching you.” Saying those words made me exceedingly nervous.
“That’s very nice to hear,” he said softly.
“It’s not easy to say.”
He kissed my forehead. “You just need more practice. It will get easier in time.”
I looked up at him, enjoying the feel of his arms tightening around me.
“I should get the bags.” His arms slipped from me.
“You said something about hot water?”
“Ah,” he answered, nodding. “Soak in the tub, eh?”
“Sounds like heaven to me.”
“Agreed. I’ll be right back.” And he headed out to collect our bags from the car.
I turned on the hot water and put the stopper in. There was a tall bottle of peppermint bath salts sitting on the counter. I opened it, sniffed the invigorating mint, and sprinkled some under the running tap. The steam off the water rose, scenting the air.
“Your bag’s on the bed.” He leaned in, smiling at me.
“You’re fast.”
“Yes. We’re about to have a bath together.” He was yanking his clothes off while he spoke.
I laughed, leaving him long enough to dig out my silk robe. “Do you need anything?” I called out to him.
“You, whenever you care to join me.”