Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7) by Becca Jameson (inspirational novels .TXT) 📕

chuckle, the sound menacing. “That was a good day,” I tell him before I can stop myself.

In less than a second, he’s pulled me into his arms. I’m hauled to my feet as I’m smashed against his chest. His hands are in my hair, running up and down my back. His face is against the top of my head. He doesn’t say he’s sorry again, though, and I’m grateful.

When he finally lets go and holds my face out a few inches from his, his eyes are watery. “I’m going to have to make fresh pancakes,” he tells me.

I smile, trying to lighten the mood, wishing I hadn’t revealed as much as I just did. It’s too late now. Might as well keep up the shitshow that is my life. “Trust me, that foster mom never once made me pancakes for breakfast. No foster mom ever did. Cold pancakes would be a treat I haven’t had in years.”

He swallows and then shakes his head. “Well you’re having hot ones, so don’t argue.” He kisses my forehead, releases my face, and takes my hand.

I practically jog to keep up with him on the way to the kitchen, and then his hands are on my hips and he’s swinging me up to set me on the counter a few feet from the stove.

He smooths my skirt down my thighs and gives me a coy half-smile while I’m still spinning from being swung through the air. “Oops. Told you. Habit.”

“I don’t mind,” I tell him once again in a soft voice. I don’t. If Davis wants to set his hands on my waist and swing me into the air, I’m never going to stop him.

His hand comes to my knee, gives a squeeze, and then releases me. When he dumps the plate of pancakes in the trash, I cringe. A squeak comes out of my mouth too.

He glances at me. “They’re just pancakes.” He grabs the mix and pours some into the bowl, starting over.

I swallow, stiffening.

He looks in my direction again and stops stirring. “Shit. That was rude. Forgive me.”

I jerk my gaze to his. “I’m just not… I would never put food in the trash.”

He comes to me again, hands landing on the counter on both sides of my thighs. His eyes meet mine. “I wasn’t thinking. I won’t do it again. Promise.”

I nod.

“Forgive me.” He’s serious. He’s really sorry.

I reach out and touch his face. “Why are you so kind?”

He reaches out and touches my cheek on the other side. “Why have you had such shitty luck in life that no one has ever been kind to you?”

I draw in a breath and shrug. “It’s just life. We deal with what we’re dealt.”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“Well, it is,” I point out. I can’t stay here forever. Eventually, I have to go back to my pitiful life of loneliness, scraping by to make ends meet. I can’t even picture how I’m going to be able to figure things out now that I’ve lost my income.

Davis closes his eyes and sighs before stepping back to the pancake mix. He stirs again, glancing at me every few moments. “You look nice,” he finally says. “The dress, I mean. It was the only one I found in your…closet.”

It’s odd how he hesitated to say closet, but I don’t dwell on that. “I’ve never worn it.”

His eyes widen for a moment. “Oh. You don’t like dresses?” His attention goes back to the batter, but he’s stiffer as if this concept bothers him.

I shrug as I look down at myself. “It’s not that exactly. I actually think this feels kind of nice today. I’m just not in the habit of wearing them. I don’t like to uh…draw attention to myself.”

He sets the bowl down and turns the burner on under the skillet before coming back to stand in front of me again. So damn close. His hands are on my knees this time. He squeezes them. “Unwanted attention, you mean.”

He’s perceptive. “Yes.”

“Because men look at you.”

“Yes.” I hold his gaze.

“You’re stunningly gorgeous. You know that.”

I nod, feeling a flush crawl up my face. He’s just stating facts. Facts I’ve been told. “So they say.”

His hand comes to my hair and lifts it. He drops the locks and then cups my face, stroking his thumb on my cheek.

Goosebumps rise up my body in response. I sit up straighter as I find myself reacting to him in another way too. There’s a flutter in my belly and my breasts feel tight.

“Your eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue that’s rare. Your skin is flawless. Your round face and button nose… I get it. I can see why it would get old and annoying.”

I nod. He understands. “I know it sounds weird. Who doesn’t want to be pretty? But it hasn’t served me well.”

“How long were you in foster care?”

I lick my lips, hoping he’ll keep touching me like he is, stroking my cheek. “Always. Until I ran away at sixteen, I mean.”

He stiffens for a second. His eyes close and then slowly reopen. His lips part, and I hold up a hand. “New rule.”

He smirks and lifts a brow before dropping his hand back to my knee. “You’re making rules?”

I nod. “Yep. If I can’t say thank you every time you do something nice for me, then you can’t say sorry every time you find out something new about me.”

He holds my gaze for a moment and then clears his throat. “Okay, I’ll agree to that rule as long as I get to introduce another rule of my own.”

“Agreed. Whatever you want.”

“I make all the rules from now on.”

My eyes widen, but he doesn’t see this because he has shoved away from me and is now pouring batter into the hot skillet. My tongue is tied. I can’t even come up with a retort. What does he mean?

While he flips pancakes, he changes the subject, nodding at my dress. “So, you don’t