“I’m alone. What does it matter?” Most years I didn’t even bother with a tree at home.
“It matters. I always had some kind of tree, even if I had to find one that was discarded and put it up with homemade decorations.”
My gut rolled just at the thought of Eva underage and so damn alone, hungry and afraid. If her mother wasn’t already dead, I’d be tempted to kill the bitch myself. “The tree will get put up eventually.”
“Or we could pick our own and put it up ourselves.”
Her tone was so damn hopeful that I was completely destroyed. I’d give her everything she ever needed and more. “If you wish,” I agreed.
Nothing had ever felt better than having Eva hurl herself at me and put her arms around my neck, pressing her entire cuddly body against mine. My arms wrapped around her automatically to steady her after her precarious dive into my harder form.
“Thank you, Trace,” she said tearfully. “It would be amazing to put a tree in this house. It will look incredible. I haven’t truly been able to decorate a normal tree for such a long time, since Dad died.”
Such a small thing, with such a big response. It was almost humbling how easily I could make her happy. It was also distressing. If a simple Christmas tree could make her happy, it told the story of how difficult her life had really been.
“We’ll get a really big tree,” I grumbled, rubbing a hand on her back. I wasn’t sure if I was consoling her or trying to sooth my anger.
“Everything worthwhile doesn’t have to be big.” She pulled back slightly and smiled.
Yeah, I’m an asshole, but I couldn’t resist. I grinned at her. “Sometimes it’s much more enjoyable if it’s big enough.”
She understood immediately, just like I knew she would. Giving my arm a smack, she answered cheekily as she rolled her eyes, “Pervert. Is everything all about getting laid with you?”
Hell, yes. It had been since I met her. I’ve never met a woman who could make me run around hard all the fucking time. Yep…pretty much all I could think about was being inside her again. “Pretty much.”
Eva’s delighted laughter filled the room, and I felt my heart pounding erratically against the wall of my chest. Jesus! There was nothing better than hearing her sound young and carefree. I wished I could make everything like that for her all the time. She was young, but she’d never had much to smile about. Still, she could laugh at little things, stuff I didn’t even think about.
“Do you get the newspaper?” Laughter was still there in her voice.
I shrugged. “I probably do.” It appeared when I wanted it, so I assumed I did get the paper.
“You don’t know?”
“No. It’s usually on the table in the morning. So I guess it gets delivered. Why do you want it?”
She pulled slowly away from me, and my dick was screaming in protest.
“Black Friday deals. I wanted to look at the fliers.”
“Who shops for Black Friday?” It wasn’t like I didn’t know that there were massive sales the day after Thanksgiving. But a sale was never worth getting trampled over just to get merchandise. Hell, I didn’t even let my employees shop for me until the madness had calmed down.
“Me,” she answered quietly. “I’ve never had my own money before. I want to get a good deal on gifts.”
She sounded so serious that I didn’t dare laugh at her. “People get killed getting those deals.” I wasn’t thrilled about the thought of her getting stampeded, and I was suddenly damn happy I was going with her.
“People get killed doing almost anything,” she scoffed. “It might be a little crazy, but I think it would be fun to shop tomorrow during all the big sales.”
Fun? Seriously?
Shit! If it meant she would be smiling and laughing, I was screwed. I’d be in the stores on the craziest day imaginable to actually shop just to see her happy. “Fine. But no door buster sales.”
She covered her smile with her hand, but I knew she was laughing at me anyway. The little witch. Did she know she had me doing things I wouldn’t normally do, just to see her acting like any other woman her age? Well, maybe not women I personally knew, but probably the majority of normal women in their twenties. Honestly, I didn’t think she had any idea how much I wanted to make things better for her. Eva wasn’t the type to manipulate or take advantage. She was simply joyful about everyday things she’d never had.
“Okay. Nothing at four a.m. or earlier,” she agreed. “How about six or seven o’clock sales?”
I looked at her pleading expression, and I was done. Her dark eyes were too damn expressive, too damn enthusiastic. I fell into her mesmerizing gaze so easily it was pretty scary. “Eight o’clock.”