Chapter 6
Six
Blade
This is intense, and I can’t stop it. I keep telling myself to slow the fuck down so I don’t pressure her and cause her to run, but she’s showing no signs of doing that. In fact, she’s been pretty blunt with me, both verbally and physically.
She’s scared. Who wouldn’t be? I’ll have to prove to her I’m nothing like her ex. I’ll chip away at the damage he did one hour at a time. I’m determined. I will win.
I comb her hair far longer than necessary, loving how the soft strands fall through my hands over and over. I hope I get to do this every day for the rest of our lives.
I could keep this up for the rest of the day, but her eyes are drooping, and her stomach finally growls. So I set the comb down and help her to her feet. “Let’s get some food in you, and then you can sleep the rest of the day away. What time do you need to work?”
“Umm, six. I only have three students tonight. They take my class together for two hours. It’s a light night.”
“That’s good. You need the rest.” I take her hand and guide her out of the bathroom. She’s adorable wearing nothing but my shirt. It’s huge on her. It swallows her, and I love it.
“Is there anything you don’t like to eat, honey?”
She doesn’t answer me for a long time. When we reach the kitchen, I gently lift her onto a stool at the island and then hold her steady. “You’re not going to fall off, are you?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“You didn’t answer my question. What do you like to eat?”
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
I frown. “Why on Earth would I get mad? I don’t want to feed you meals you don’t like.”
“I’m really picky.”
“And this would make me mad?” It dawns on me. “Ohhh… Your ex berated you about it, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m not him. Let’s ban thoughts of him from this house. He tried hard to destroy a beautiful human being, but he didn’t succeed, did he?”
“Nope.” She sits up taller. “I’m strong.”
“Good girl. We’ll talk more about this later, but I want you to know I will never force you to eat something you don’t like or make fun of you for any reason whatsoever.
I may work my ass off to figure out what things you might eat that will ensure you stay healthy, but we’ll use trial and error until we figure it out.
In the meantime, it’s comfort-food day. You tell me your favorites, and I’ll order all of them.
For now, let’s see what I have on hand that will fill your tummy, yeah? ”
She smiles.
Fuck me.
I like the twinkle in her eyes. “Do you have toaster waffles?”
Fuck. Me.
“I don’t. I’ll add them to the list. How about pancakes?”
She beams. “I love pancakes.”
“Then pancakes it is. Anything else? Bacon? Eggs?” Surely, I can get some protein in her.
“Bacon is gross. It smells good, but when it’s undercooked, it’s nasty, and when it’s overcooked, it’s too crunchy.” She shudders.
She is the Littlest Little who ever existed without knowing it. I’ve hit the Little lottery.
“Bacon is out then, but apparently, you don’t mind if I eat it because the scent doesn’t bother you.”
She gives me a firm nod, pulling her shoulders back. My ability to have this discourse with her without being a dickhead about it is giving her the confidence to keep talking.
“What about eggs? Yay? Nay?”
“Eggs are good if they’re scrambled, but they have to be cooked all the way. Runny is nasty.” She sticks a finger in her open mouth, feigning gagging.
“Got it. Fully cooked scrambled eggs. Any other types of egg for future reference?”
She bites her lip and stares at me, hesitating.
I close the small space between us, cup her shoulders, and slide my hands up to her neck. “Don’t ever feel like you can’t be yourself with me, June. Be exactly who you are. I will never judge you. Right now, we’re just discussing eggs.”
“I like egg salad if it has the right amounts of mayonnaise and mustard on white toast without crust. Oddly, I don’t like mayonnaise or mustard in any other combination.”
“That’s not odd. They taste totally different mixed together with eggs. I eat egg salad, too, and I don’t normally eat mustard on other foods.”
Her eyes are wide, and she graces me with a giant smile. My approval of her food quirks is huge to June and earning me brownie points left and right.
“When I make egg salad, I’ll let you help me add the mayo and mustard so we get it just right.”
“Thank you.” She leans forward, wrapping her arms around me. She holds me tight, even with her broken arm.
When she releases me, I kiss the top of her head and angle her toward the island in the swivel chair. “Hands on the counter so you don’t fall, Little one.”
She giggles as she flattens her good palm on the surface. Her other hand isn’t much help, but she sets it on the granite anyway.
“What do you like to drink, silly girl?” I ask as I head for the fridge.
“Juice?”
I turn around. “Are you asking me?” I tease.
Another giggle. “Do you have apple juice?”
“Nope. Only orange. I’ll add it to the list. I have orange juice. Milk. Water. Flavored water.”
Her eyes light up. “The sparkling kind?”
“Yes.” I swear, I shall live my life to please this woman. It’s worth it to see her face. I open the fridge. “Let’s see… Mandarin orange, strawberry-kiwi, black cherry.”
“Yes! Black cherry.”
Be still my heart. I grab the bottle, twist off the top, and carry it to her. “Can you manage with one hand, Little one?”
“I think so.” She’s clearly awkward, though, so I don’t release it.
“I have another idea.” Will she lose her shit if I put this in a sippy cup? I might not have many things for Little girls because this is totally unexpected, but I think I have a few sippy cups. I keep them on hand for when my buddies come over with their Littles.
I open the cabinet, push the first few sippy cups aside, and find one with handles. Without a word, I fill it, twist the top on, and return to June. My heart is racing. This is huge.
She eyes the cup suspiciously when I set it in front of her. Finally, she grins at me. “That’s perfect.” She picks it up without complaint with her good hand, which is obviously not her dominant one, and takes a drink. No. Not a drink. She downs the water. The poor girl was dying of thirst. Shit.
I turn and grab the bottle. When she’s done, I refill it immediately. “I should have offered you a drink earlier. I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “I didn’t realize I was thirsty until I started drinking.”
“Well, you can have as much as you want.” It won’t hurt her. It’s all-natural, made from water, apple juice, and natural flavors. She already told me she likes apple juice.
I have to drag myself away from her. While I make pancakes and scrambled eggs, I ask her about other foods and learn she doesn’t like much meat unless we count chicken nuggets.
She will, however, eat cheese, which gives her protein.
She likes some yogurts. Cottage cheese. Mac and cheese.
Ice cream. I won’t have to force milk products into her. But she does not, however, drink milk.
Veggies are a different story altogether. Smoothies she was uncertain about, but I’ll be on a mission to prepare smoothies for her that contain as many fruits and veggies as I can hide.
She likes spaghetti, so I’ll make sure she’s not watching when I load that sauce up with pureed veggies. I feel confident I can keep her healthy. It just might take some experimenting. Trial and error.
I’m beyond pleased that there’s one rubber spork in my silverware drawer, and even more so when June giggles as I set it in front of her.
“Are you afraid I might stab myself with a metal utensil?”
“It’s possible. You don’t seem very ambidextrous,” I tease. “Now, how do you feel about real maple syrup? I should have asked that first.” I don’t have the high-fructose-corn-syrup variety.
“I’ve never tried it.”
I grab it from the fridge, pour some in a small dish, and pop it in the microwave for ten seconds. I add it to her plate and bring it to the island. Before setting it in front of her, I cut up the pancakes into bite-sized pieces.
She’s holding her lip between her teeth again as she watches me. “You’re going to spoil me.”
“That’s the goal.” I take her good hand and kiss her fingertips. “It’s all part of my masterplan to ensure you never want to leave.”
Her face drops, and she looks away.
Shit. Fuck.
That probably came out wrong.
I rub her knuckles against my beard. “I’m not him,” I remind her gently.
“I know.”
“But he lured you with kindness and then turned the tables, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay.”
I decide to take a chance and do some guesswork. I sit on the stool next to hers, turn hers so she’s facing me with her knees between mine, and pull her plate in front of me. After stabbing into a bite of eggs, I hold the spork up to her mouth.
She stares at it a moment and then opens for me. After chewing and swallowing, she says, “Those are really good.”
I stab a bite of pancake next and dip it in the syrup. “See what you think about the syrup.”
She’s tentative, but she accepts the bite, chews slowly, and grins. “Yummy.”
I’m going to die from happiness. One more act, and then I’m going to go in for the kill and make my point. I lean closer, lick the drop of sticky syrup from the corner of her mouth, and kiss her.
Her jaw drops.
I make my case. “Did your asshole of an ex ever give you a bath?”
She shakes her head.
“Did he make you perfect eggs?”
“No,” she whispers.
“How about pancakes? Did he ever cut them up and feed you because you weren’t feeling well?”
“No.”
“Did he kiss your pretty lips to get the syrup from the corner?”
She looks down.
My heart is thumping.
She sniffles and whispers, “He only kissed me a few times when we were first dating, and those times were chaste. He never kissed me at all after that.”
What a fucking prick.
I set the fork down, pull her stool closer between my legs, and cup her face.
I close the distance, kissing her with every ounce of passion I feel.
I tip her head to one side, lick the seam of her lips, and slide my tongue into her sweet mouth the moment she opens for me.
I don’t release her lips until she’s moaning and clutching at me with her good hand.
She’s panting when I give her an inch. “You’re definitely not him,” she finally breathes out.
“Nope.”
She smiles. “Will you do that again later?”
“Millions of times.”
Her cheeks turn bright pink. She wants to believe me. I’ll show her.
“Did I hurt you?”
She frowns.
I tap her lip where it’s healing from being split open.
She licks the spot. “I didn’t even notice.”