My lips pursed as we walked up to the trees. “There are so many and they look so real.”
He slid me a long look. “That’s the point.”
“Shush it.” I touched one of the prickly needles. “My mom always gets a live Christmas tree, so I never bought one.”
Nick nudged me with his hip as he stepped around the cart. “Well, let my expertise guide you into making the right choice.”
I grinned.
The wide and tall trees, the ones with frosted tips, which looked extraordinarily real, were the ones that lured me in. “I don’t think that’s going to fit,” Nick kept commenting as I moseyed from one gigantic tree to another. “How about this one?”
My brows rose. He was gesturing at a hot pink tree. “Um. No.”
He chuckled as we moved down the aisle and then stopped. “Actually this one would be perfect.”
This time he was talking about a slender five-and-a-half-foot Virginia pine. I ran my fingers along the frosted tips designed to look like it was dusted with snow. “I like it. This is the one. It has cherries.”
Nick glanced over at me, grinning. “I think they’re holly berries.”
“Aren’t they the same?”
He shook his head. “No, Stephanie. They aren’t.”
“Ha. What—” A sharp pain in my stomach cut my words off. Pressing my hand against my waist, I stood completely still as the burning sensation eased off.
Nick stepped toward me, his eyes widening, concern etched into his features. “You okay?”
For a moment I didn’t answer, because I wasn’t sure, but the pain didn’t return. “Yeah. I’m fine. I guess it was just a weird cramp.”
He touched my hand as he glanced around. “You sure?”
I nodded. “It was just a cramp. Probably the fried chicken.”
“You did eat a lot of fried chicken.”
My eyes narrowed. “Not that much.”
Some of the tension eased out of Nick. “You ate, like, six pieces. Two of which were mine.” He paused, his sage-colored eyes glimmering. “And my biscuit. You also ate my biscuit.”
I did eat his biscuit. “I was hungry.”
He chuckled as he turned back to the tree. “You want this one?”
“I think it’s perfect with its ‘holly berries.’ ”
Bending down, he easily picked up the long, narrow box. “Look at you, such a quick learner.”
I laughed as he propped the tree up in the cart, and we moved on to the decorations. As we picked out ornaments and a garland, I waited for the pain to return, and was relieved that it didn’t happen again.
We headed toward the front of the store, taking a shortcut through home furnishings, which caused us to walk right through the baby section. My attention wandered over the endless sea of baby stuff.
“You want to look around?” he asked, following my gaze.
My heart flip-flopped. “You okay with that?”
He shot me a weird look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shrugged. “It’s really too soon to even look at any of this stuff.”
“You can get some ideas, though.”
“You have a good point.”
“I always have good points.”
“Aren’t you just a humble-brag.” I started forward, eyeing the changing tables. “Do you really think I need one of these?”
Nick followed with the cart. “Unless you plan on changing the baby on a kitchen counter, I’d say yes.”
I giggled at the image as I brushed my fingers over the white pad. A display of tiny shoes were placed near the table.
“Oh my gosh.” I picked up the pair of little white Mary Janes. Both shoes fit in one hand as I turned to Nick. “Look at this! Look at how small they are.”
He shook his head. “There’s a part of me that can’t even fathom feet that tiny for shoes.”
“I know.” Grinning, I bit down on my lip. “If we have a girl, I’m so buying these shoes.”
“You can buy ten of them if it makes you happy.”
My gaze flew to his and held. The sincerity was right there. I couldn’t look away from it. Words bubbled up to the tip of my tongue and I forced myself to look away. I put the shoes back. From there I roamed to a matching dresser and a rocking chair. There was so much stuff. Car seats. Strollers of various sizes. Rockers. Bouncy chairs. Diaper genies and so many different types of baby bottles.
Standing in the middle of the baby section, I simply gawked at everything. “I think I’m going to have a panic attack,” I told him, only half serious. “I mean, I need to get all this stuff. That’s a lot of stuff. And where am I going to put all of it?”
Nick picked up a package of dishwasher safe bottles. “Correction. We need to get this stuff and we have room. My grandfather’s house is mine. It’s in the will. I had been thinking about selling it once . . . well, you know, and moving into something smaller,” he said, placing the bottles back. He returned to the cart. “But seems smart to keep the house, especially with a baby coming.”
I was staring at him again. “You . . . you’re saying that we—like me and the baby—could move in with you?”
He arched a brow. “No. I was talking about that guy and girl over there picking out strollers.”
I was still staring at him.
“Why wouldn’t you? You’re right. You don’t have the space. I do. It would work perfectly.” He leaned on the cart and picked up my hat, twirling it in his hands. A sly grin curved his lips. “And I like the idea of sharing a bed with you.”