The Right Guy - Liz Lovelock Page 0,38
and waffles, ice cream, maple syrup, bacon, eggs, and fresh orange juice.
“It’s your first birthday with us, and we want this one—and the rest that follow—to be equally as special. We’ll do presents as well.” She pulls me against her, giving me the tightest embrace.
“Thanks so much. You really didn’t need to do this.” I choke on my words.
“Yes, I did.” She releases me and goes about setting plates out, and we all settle in and have a filling breakfast.
When breakfast is over, I’m so full I think I need to be rolled from the table and out the door to school. I say goodbye to Mom, Paul, and the kids. After I pull the door open, I squeal a little. Jase stands there.
“Damn, you scared the crap out of me. Next time, knock. What are you doing here?” My hand clutches my chest.
Jase chuckles, and it’s like it vibrates right through me even though we aren’t touching. “Happy birthday. I wanted to give you a lift if that’s okay with you.”
How could I deny this man? He stands in front of me with a football team shirt hugging his muscles—those same muscles I ran my hands over. And the memory of them are ingrained in my head.
“Oh, hello, Jase. How are you?” Mom comes to stand behind me.
“I’m good, thanks. I’m just picking up the birthday girl.”
“Perfect. You better run along now. Don’t want you both to be late.” Mom hands me my bag that I’d dropped on the floor and pushes me into Jase’s chest. Three times the charm. It’s becoming regular—these bumps into him. Not that I can complain, though. Raising my hand, I place it on his chest to steady my footing.
“Gee, thanks, Mom. Way to make me feel special,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t sass me, girl. I’ve got things to organize.” With that last comment, she shuts the door, and I still haven’t removed my hand from Jase’s chest. Quickly, I snatch it back and take a better hold on my bag before tossing it over my shoulder.
“Well, I guess we’re leaving then.”
“I suppose so. Come on.” He turns and puts an arm around me, guiding me to his car. Opening the door, I go to climb in and pause. There’s a small square box with a tiny red bow resting on top sitting on the passenger seat.
No matter how much I try, I can’t hide my smile. “You didn’t have to get me something,” I gush.
“Who says it’s for you? It’s Paislee’s birthday tomorrow.”
My face heats. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Of course you’d want to get her something. Aren’t you two good friends?”
Jase suddenly busts out laughing. “I’m sorry, the gift is for you.” He comes around and stands behind me, resting his hand on my hip. He leans in and grabs the box. Damn, he smells so good. I turn to face him. We’re close—really close. He holds the box out. I take it with trembling hands.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Pfft. You deserve something. Not just anything; it had to be special. Open it.” He gestures to the box. Smiling, I lift the lid. A gasp escapes my throat. Tears fill my eyes.
“You remembered.” My eyes don’t move from the charm bracelet in the box. When we were younger, I’d begged my mom for one of these. I’d wanted to save up and buy charms that represented the things closest to me. Lifting the gold chain from the box, I inspect the four little charms hanging on it. There’s a football, a phoenix, the letter C, and a piece of cake.
“So, the C is obvious: Charity; the phoenix because they always rise from the ashes; cake because it’s your birthday; and the football represents me.”
Without thinking, I rise on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around him. He holds me against him. “Thank you so much,” I whisper against his neck then place a small kiss there. His entire body shivers.
“You deserve it, and now you can collect the ones you want and that mean something special to you. When this one runs out of room, I’ll buy you another.”
My chest swells. Jase is a big man on the outside, but on the inside, he’s a complete softy. Any girl would be lucky to have him.
Releasing me, he shifts back. “Here, I’ll help you put it on.” Once he clasps it, it’s his turn to lean in and place a kiss on my cheek. “We should go, or we’ll be late.”
“Okay.”