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“Can you put it in a guest room?” she asked me as I pulled the large suitcase into my hallway. She’d insisted on towing the smaller one.

“You’re not going to put things in the master bedroom?” I asked.

“Yeah, I just don’t want to mess it up in there. You’re always so . . . neat with everything.”

I’d left her a gift in the second bedroom, so I supposed now was as good a time as any to give it to her. “If you say so.”

“You know that girls fart, right?”

She’d been hitting me with all these stupid bits of information since we woke up. “Will you stop trying to sabotage you moving in?” I said as I set her suitcase in the walk-in wardrobe.

“Why do you need all these bedrooms, anyway?” she asked. “Oh,” she said, looking at the rails where I set out her gifts, still wrapped in garment bags. “Do you want me to put my things somewhere else?”

“Yes, I want your things in the master bedroom,” I said. “But you insisted on me bringing the suitcases in here.”

“To unpack and put things I don’t use so much. Am I still okay in here or shall I use another closet?” she asked, nodding at the rail that had been empty.

“You’re okay. And these,” I said, running my hand along the four hangers, “are for you. Well, for you to pick between. Moving-in gift.”

You’d have thought I’d told her it was time to pull her fingernails from her hands, given the expression on her face. “For me? Dexter? You’ve got to stop doing that.”

“No, I really don’t.” I found I quite enjoyed treating her. Although I had hoped the gesture would elicit a smile rather than the grimace I was actually faced with.

She rose from the floor, abandoning her suitcase, and moved toward the rail. “What are they?”

“Dresses. For the final ceremony of the competition. I picked out four so you can choose one. Or if you want to keep all four, that works.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, hoping she wasn’t going to be pissed off.

“You bought me dresses?” she asked, glancing between me and the rail. “Dexter,” she whispered, then stepped toward me and slid her hand around my waist. “You really shouldn’t have. It’s too sweet.”

“You’ve not seen them yet. You might hate them.”

She squeezed me tighter. “Impossible. I know your taste. And anyway, I don’t even care. I just can’t believe you would do that for me.”

“You deserve it.”

The sound of her deep breath filled the space between us. “I don’t think—”

“Let me do this, Hollie. I enjoy it. I like seeing you happy.”

“I don’t need gifts to make me happy,” she said. “You’ve already done so much for me.”

“I keep saying this—it’s a two-way street. You make me happy and I want to do the same for you.”

She reached up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to my neck. “I actually have a little something for you.”

“Hollie, I don’t need—”

“Hey,” she replied. “You don’t get to give me stuff and then complain when I do the same. This is a two-way street, remember?” She grinned at me as if she had me bang to rights.

She dived into her suitcase and pulled out an envelope. “I haven’t had time to wrap it. I had Autumn send it because it was something I was experimenting with back in Oregon.” She produced a woven, brown leather bracelet with a silver clasp.

“Wow, that’s beautiful,” I said, examining the silver.

“It’s meant to be like the trunk of a tree or a log or something. Like I said, it was a bit of an experiment.”

I didn’t wear jewelry. Ever. I always thought there was something very wrong with men who ran out of ways to spend their money so decided that jewelry was the way to show off. But this I’d make an exception for. It was gorgeous, and there was nothing Hollie could give me that I wouldn’t wear. I loved that her hands had crafted this, and she wanted me to have it.

She opened it and put it around my wrist. “You don’t have to wear it, of course. But it’s yours anyway. The clasp reminded me of you. You know—solid. Steadfast.”

I caught her by the waist and pulled her against me. “Thank you.”

She shrugged. “Less about you, let’s move on to my gift!” She grinned and pulled out of my arms. “No one’s bought me clothes since I was about twelve.”

I didn’t like to pry into Hollie’s upbringing, but it clearly wasn’t a privileged one. She seemed to have raised herself and her sister. I loved to treat her.

“If you don’t like any of them, we can send them back and start again. I didn’t think you’d picked a dress for the finals yet.”

“This is crazy,” she said, moving the hangers on the rail.


Tags: Louise Bay The Mister Romance