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

“Make. My. Bed,” I state out loud as I write those words on my chore chart next to a bullet point. “What else would you like me to list, Sir?”

He spins around fast and meets my gaze. His expression is one of shock that quickly changes to calm, but he’s breathing deeply.

I’m taken aback. I have no idea what made him react like that.

He straightens, takes a deep breath, and glances at the page, the sudden shift in his demeanor disappearing as fast as it showed up. “Let’s see… Dirty clothes go in the hamper.”

I giggle and write that down. “Next?”

He chuckles.

This is an odd game we’re playing, but I love interacting with him, so I don’t care how strange it is. It seems sort of normal for the two of us, like it’s our dynamic.

I feel kind of young and I find I like this plan. I’ve never had legitimate chores before. Not ones that were attainable. “I know,” I declare. “Put my dishes in the dishwasher.”

“Good one,” he glances at me while he makes sandwiches. “Put your toys away,” he adds, pointing the knife at my paper.

I laugh again. “If I had toys. If I ever had toys…” I feel nostalgic for the little girl who never had things of her own.

“I’ll get you some, and then you’ll have them, and you can put them away.”

I giggle again as I add it to the list. “Brush my teeth twice a day,” I murmur as I add that next. And then I start making little squares next to the list, a row of them next to each item.

Davis comes over to set a plate in front of me and asks, “What are the squares for?”

I lift my gaze and give him a shocked look. “If I’m going to have chores, I think I at least deserve stickers as a reward for doing them.” I stop writing, freezing up, gripping the pen as a memory washes over me.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Davis asks, his hand on the back of my head.

I let it spill out. “I had a foster mother who had a sticker chart for her kids. I wasn’t with that family long, but I remember wishing I could be included in the sticker chart. I don’t think she meant to hurt me. She was one of the nicer ones, but she didn’t realize how I envied those stickers each night when she gave them to her kids to add to the chart.” I shudder.

Davis kisses the top of my head and points to the paper. “Finish the squares. I’ll get you stickers.”

I bite my lip, not lifting my gaze as I continue with shaky fingers. I feel silly. It’s ridiculous that as a grown woman I’m about to cry real tears over a childhood staple I missed out on. They’re just stupid stickers. I shouldn’t care now.

But I do care, and somehow I know Davis will buy them and use them. I know it in my soul. And it may be strange, but I’m not going to point it out because I want the damn experience I missed out on.

I’m not a kid. Davis is not my Daddy.

I shudder. Where on earth did that thought come from? I glance at him. He’s so handsome and I’m so attracted to him. I love the way he touches me and how he looks at me. It certainly isn’t like a parent. Good grief.

I shake the odd thought and add more chores to the list. “Keep my bathroom clean.” “Help make dinner.” “Empty the dishwasher.”

As Davis returns to set two glasses of water on the table, he lifts my chin and meets my gaze. He kisses my lips gently and then continues to stare at me as if he’s reading me. “Good girl.” He smooths his hand over my head again and takes his seat. “Let’s eat.” His voice is lower, rough, emotional? I can’t tell for sure, but I don’t comment. I push the papers from my silly game out of the way.

The thing is that after lunch, he hangs them both on the refrigerator, low enough for me to reach them.

Something hitches in my chest. A twinge of regret that I never got to be a kid. I never had pink things and chore charts. Dresses and ribbons. Toys of my own. Pets. I’ve never spent a great deal of time dwelling on these facts, and I have no idea why I am now. For some reason, it’s just coming in through the cracks as if I’ve been holding myself together for years and suddenly the façade is cracking.

I don’t think I like it, while at the same time, I find I’m staying with a man who seems intent on indulging me. I don’t care how strange it is, I’m going to play along. Maybe I’ll grasp a bit of my missing childhood and feel better in the end.

Chapter 12

Britney

I watch television for a while in the afternoon while Davis goes into his office to work. I hear him on the phone several times and wonder if he’s talking about me. I know he’s working on solving my problem. I have to assume he’s spoken to his boss about me. I don’t want to know what he’s saying though, so I focus on the television.

I’m hiding from my problems. He’s enabling me, too. I’m not sure I care right now. It feels good to ignore reality for a while. I’ve never had this luxury. I can’t remember the last time I sat around lounging all afternoon with no responsibilities. I don’t even own a television, so I’ve never done that. I read sometimes, but usually, I need to be working or sleeping between jobs or going over my finances to make sure enough money is left for rent.

When Davis comes out of his office, his brow is furrowed, but I don’t ask questions. I follow him with my eyes