“What is it?” she asked, excitement rising within her chest.
He chuckled in good nature, his broad chest heaving against her back, reminding her of the hard, powerful physique that he possessed.
“Nothin’ big,” he said leading her forward, eyes still covered. “But I didn’t want a repeat of yesterday,” he explained, pulling open a door before unveiling her sight and letting her peer into the open pantry.
There, upon the floor of the pantry, she saw a well-polished, newly crafted foot-ladder. The air even smelled of the woodwork, which must’ve been what drew him out of bed so early.
All to craft somethin’ she’d only need for a few days.
“Damien,” she murmured, her hand fluttering to her chest. She couldn’t believe he’d put himself out to do something like that for her, and she spun around, throwing her arms about his neck. “Thank you!”
Her excitement came as a surprise to him, judging by his wide eyes. But he smiled and wrapped his arms about her in return, hugging her tightly as he grinned. The quiet between them dragging a while as his gaze trailed down along her lips.
He snapped his gaze back up to hers and gave her another tight squeeze.
“Pa should’ve done it ages ago anyhow, but I bet he never even noticed. You’re not the complainin’ sort, are ya?” he remarked wryly.
She shook her head. He was so warm, his hard body pressed to hers, making her have to go up on her tip-toes just to hug him. The step-stool would come in handy for that, too, she mused. She felt like she should pull away, that she’d lingered too long, but it was only reluctantly that she withdrew her arms from ‘round his neck.
Then reluctantly again that he pulled his thick limbs from low around her waist.
“Now… what’s for breakfast,” he asked with an impish smile.
* * *
It wasn’t the last time Damien surprised her with a little gift. Later that day, he came in with some fresh picked berries to make into jam.
“Found ‘em down by the river,” he explained with a smile.
Though the next day she awoke to find some fresh wildflowers on the table, waiting for her. Along with a note that read:
Gone to town to pick up a few things and finish some work. Be back for supper.
Then finished it off with a lil’ heart.
She stared at it far longer than she oughta. She didn’t know what to make of it, what to make of him. He came into her life again lookin’ every bit the bad boy he used to be, but inside, he had a heart of gold. He genuinely seemed to care about her, and want to make her happy.
She brought the flowers out with her to the kitchen, putting them to the side and glancing overlong at the note every so often.
Of course she’d noticed the little changes in behaviour. The way he lingered nearer to her, the way he held her tight. And she hadn’t forgotten when she’d spied him nude, and his devious smile.
But surely there wasn’t anything inappropriate, not between them.
So then why did she feel the way she did? Why was she hummin’ a silly song, excited for his return?
Why was it that every time she thought about him, her stomach fluttered, and she felt so happy durin’ what was a time of great loss for her?
To be certain, there was a lot of sadness. Even for Damien, who was stoic and strong, she read the mourning etched into his hard, masculine features. But it was the softer moments, the joy of reconnectin’, that really made the moments so special.
When supper was approachin’, she heard the sound of his bike comin’ down the road and peered out the window. There he was, all dressed in black, tearin’ down the road towards home.
When he got off his motorcycle, she noticed he was carryin’ a couple bags from out of the storage on his bike. He headed first to the workshop, and only then back towards the farmhouse, still carryin’ one of those bags in his arms.
She’d been curious what he needed so bad in town. After all, when he headed back to the city he’d have access to everything he wanted and more.
Includin’ a woman to come back here with, she reminded herself, and her happiness at his arrival was tempered with melancholy.
“What’s for supper?” he asked with a grin as he stomped into the house, the big, leather-wearin’ biker like a bull rampaging about with how big he was. “I’m starved after all day.”