บท 118: Chapter 118

I opened my mouth to carol, “Happy birthday,” but the surprise was on me.

He was wearing those 501 jeans and a snug-fitting, short-sleeved knit polo shirt of deep-forest green that emphasized the fact that he wasn’t wearing an undershirt. Maybe he wasn’t wearing shorts either? I could barely bite back a moan.

The corner of his mouth was curled in that grin. He knew how those jeans affected me.

I cleared my throat and pulled myself together. “Happy birthday!” I had a towel draped over my arm, and I gave a slight bow and escorted him into the dining room. “If monsieur will ‘avea seat?” I used my best French accent.

“Oh, babe!” He took in the decorations, the Irish linen tablecloth, the good china and flatware, the centerpiece of blue and white carnations arranged to look like a birthday cake. “Oh, babe! Thank you!”

“Do you want to open these now?” I pointed to his presents.

“No. I think I’ll wait until after dinner.”

“You do believe in delayed gratification, don’t you?”