InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Resonance ( Chapter 44 )

'So, you can always take her skydiving and propose to her in the air as you're freefalling!  That would be entirely romantic, you know!  Just make sure you do it before you have to pull the cord on your parachute . . . I'll even buy you a helmet cam!'

Scowling at the latest text from Chelsea, Ben slowly shook his head.  'Panthers cannot fly,' he texted back before dropping his phone into his pocket once more.

'Her suggestions are getting more and more bizarre,' his youkai-voice pointed out.

'Nope.  Chelsea's just a strange one,' he replied.  'Pretty much normal, coming from her.'

His youkai sighed, and Ben nodded in silent agreement.

Charity hurried into the living room, trying to lean back and look down as she fastened a thin gold necklace around her throat.  "I can't wait to see it!" she exclaimed, letting her hands drop away as she skittered over to his side.  She giggled.  "This is really exciting!"

He still didn't know exactly what InuYasha had said to her during his impromptu visit.  He was gone before Ben had stuck his head into the living room a couple hours after InuYasha's arrival.  Whatever it was, though, had done the trick, and, while he still caught the tell-tale shadows in Charity's gaze from time to time, she seemed to be back to her old self for the most part, and for that, Ben supposed, he owed InuYasha a great deal, even if he hadn't actually thought that the hanyou would jump on a plane to talk to her, but then, maybe . . . Maybe InuYasha had figured it was something he ought to do in person . . .

Ben chuckled, slipping his arms around her and kissing her forehead.   "Okay . . . Did you check the diaper bag?"

She nodded and gave him a little squeeze around the waist before letting her arms drop away.  "I feel like a bad mom," she admitted, wrinkling her adorable little nose.

"Nonsense," he argued.  "I mean, it's not like we leave them with a sitter very often, and I think we're allowed one afternoon, don't you think?"

Her expression stated quite plainly that she wasn't entirely on board with his plan.

Ben's phone chimed, and he dug it out of his pocket, rolling his eyes as he read Chelsea's response.  'Okay, you old pooh . . . What about rock climbing?  Propose atop Mt. Everest!'

His response was quick and easy.  'No.'

"Is that important?" she asked, gesturing at his phone.

"Nope, not at all," he said, slipping it into his pocket once more as he grabbed both babies in their car seats and followed Charity toward the door.

"I don't know, Ben," she said, taking Emmeline from him so that he could hit the button on the keychain to remote start the car.  "Do you really think that it's wise to leave them with oji-san and oba-chan?  I mean, they're absolutely wonderful with children normally, but with the triplets, don't you think it might be a bit too much?  Five babies?"

"Uhh, six," Ben replied absently as he settled Nadia into the base of the car seat.

"Six?" she repeated.  "How, six?"

"Cartham was there when I called.  Apparently, he wanted to take Kelly out to this restaurant she wanted to go to.  The sitter they’d arranged had an emergency, though, and when Gin overheard the discussion, she volunteered to take care of Jaeger so they didn't have to change their plans, too."

"Oh . . ." Charity breathed.  Ben shut the car door and hurried around to open Charity's as she finished fastening Emmeline into the other seat.  "Okay, yeah, we can't leave the girls there!  Six babies against two adults?  Even if it's them, there's no way that the two of them can take care of all six of them by themselves!  That'd be utter madness!"

Ben chuckled.  "Relax, Cherry.  Zelig's tai-youkai, remember?"

She snorted.  "That doesn't make him president of the babysitter's club."

He raised an eyebrow.  "Is there really such a thing?"

She shook her head and made a 'v' out of her index and middle fingers, pointing them at his eyes and flipping them around toward her own.  "Focus, Ben," she replied.

"And if they manage to defeat him . . .?  I guess we'll have a new tai-youkai."

She heaved a very loud sigh, but slipped into the passenger seat.  "And what if he still makes the girls cry?" she added when he got in.

His lips twitched as he fastened his seat belt and put the car in gear, reaching over to brace himself against her seat as he turned to make sure there was nothing behind them before checking the dashboard display as he slowly backed out of the driveway.  "Then I guess the next tai-youkai will be a cougar—a female cougar."

"Ben!" she scolded moments before she dissolved in helpless laughter.  "You're terrible."

He shrugged.  "Is it wrong that I kind of wish I could plant a camera in the living room to see the whole thing in glorious Technicolor?"

"Yes," she said, trying to look stern despite the smile on her face.  "Yes, it is."

"Cherry?"

"Hmm?"

"If you have that phone out again, texting Gin to check on the girls, I'll take it away from you," Ben warned.

Charity made a face and quickly slipped the phone into her coat pocket as she quickened her pace to catch up with Ben.  He didn't glance down at her, but he did hold out his hand.  "Forget it," she told him, slapping his hand away.

"You've texted her ten times in the last half an hour," he pointed out.

"I have not!" she argued, making a face when she felt the blood rush to her cheeks.  "It's only been . . ." Digging out her phone, she bit her lip as she counted through the messages.  ". . . Seven."

"Close enough."

"But they weren't all to check on them," she insisted.  "I mean, I wanted to let her know that Em tends to spit up more than her sister . . ."

"So, give her a shake and hand her to Zelig, then let the fountain of youth flow."

She rolled her eyes.  "And I thought they should know that Nadia likes her teddy bear when she takes a nap . . ."

"They'll just dogpile on the floor.  It'll be fine."

She wrinkled her nose.  "And Em's afraid of that talking fire hydrant on Power Puppies, if they wanted to let them watch some television."

Ben grunted.  "I'm kind of scared of that talking fire hydrant."

She snorted but giggled.  "You are not!"

"It is a little creepy."

She laughed and slipped her hand into his as they strolled over the barren ground toward the wooden and concrete framed structure at the top of a small hill.  "So, what do you think?" he asked, waving his free hand at the skeleton of what would eventually be their new house.

She blinked and slowly studied it.  "It's going to be really big," she said.

"Yeah, well, you know.  Figured it'd be a good idea in case we ever want to take a turn, watching six cubs all roughly the same age . . ."

"You'd do that?' she couldn't help asking, casting him an amused sidelong glance.

"Not while they're all still in diapers," he replied darkly.  "I'm not nearly as stupid as Zelig."

She smacked him with the back of her hand against his arm, and he chuckled.  “When they’re a little older, though?  I think it’d be pretty fun—every once in a while, anyway . . .”

"Sure, as long as I don’t have meetings scheduled.  Might be kind of noisy otherwise,” he allowed.  “You want to get a closer look?  I'll give you the grand tour," he said, giving her hand a little tug.

Falling into step beside him, she let him lead her up the dirt path to the area that had already been cleared and leveled for the front porch and up the cinderblock steps that were set as a temporary staircase since the base of the first floor was a good five feet off the ground.  "Watch your step," he warned, scooting some fresh snow off the makeshift steps.  It had snowed earlier in the day, but it wasn't much more than a dusting, and that was fine.

"This is your foyer," he said in his best tour-guide-tone.  "And if you'll turn your attention straight ahead, this will be the formal dining room—a room that I find completely unnecessary, but you seemed to like it, so there's that . . ."

“Where else would we have dinner parties?”

“Dinner parties?  You mean, with people?”

Charity snorted, but took his teasing tone for what it was as she rolled her eyes and giggled.

Pulling her along behind him, he stepped through a high archway and into a larger area.  "This is going to be our office—"

"Ours?" she interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

He shrugged.  "Well, I figured if you ever decided to go back to work, you might want to have a work area, too, so this one's large enough to accommodate us both."

"You mean, you don't mind sharing office space with me?"

He looked puzzled for a few moments.  "Not particularly . . . Am I supposed to?"

She smiled since she hadn't actually thought about it too much.  She didn’t doubt, of course, that eventually, she’d want to return to work.  Now, though?  Now, it was one of the last things on her mind, all things considered.  That Ben had thought that far ahead?  Her smile widened, struck, once more, by just how thoughtful he always tended to be.  Perfect?  No, but then, he did make up for it, didn’t he?

"What's this little room?" she asked, venturing away from Ben's side and through another high arch into a small area that she didn't remember on the blue prints.  It almost seemed like a short hallway with another opening on the far end, but it was a little wider than necessary, if that were the case.

"It was added on after the fact," he said.  "Bill said that it'd be the perfect area to put a small sun room for you, which would be good if you wanted to grow some indoor plants or just to have an area to escape for a few minutes or so . . . It's for you."

She smiled.  "For me?"

He nodded.  "I thought you might like it . . ."

"I do . . . Well, I will . . ."

He stared at her for a long moment, and Charity couldn't help the way her belly lurched under his scrutiny.  It was an entirely pleasant kind of sensation, she decided, but he finally sighed and took her hand to lead her back into the foyer once more, to another part of the main level.  "This is going to be the living room—the fireplace goes over there.  Back there is the overhang patio that opens in the summer, but will be fully enclosed in the winter . . . Powder room over there . . . and this," he said, pulling her in the opposite direction, he waved a hand at the empty space.  "Here's your kitchen . . . Well, technically, Eddie’s kitchen, I guess . . . And that pretty much covers the ground floor."

“And Eddie’s cottage?”

He chuckled since they hadn’t told the housekeeper anything about it.  They’d both decided it’d be much nicer to give her a small place of her own: a tiny cottage about a hundred yards behind the house, nestled into a small grove of trees to allow her space of her own and a semblance of privacy.  Sure, they could easily have built a little apartment as part of the overall floor plan, just like she had now in all of Ben’s residences, but Charity had pointed out that sometimes, having your very own space was invaluable.

“I don’t think they’ve started on that yet, but they should be breaking ground for it soon, too.”

She laughed and nodded in agreement.  "I can’t wait to surprise her!  As for the rest of the house?  Very nice," she said.  "I like it."

Ben chuckled and slipped an arm around her waist.  "Good, because it's all for you, you know."

"Is it?"

He nodded as he tucked her a little closer against his side.  "Of course, it is."

She shook her head.  "No, Ben . . . It's all for us."

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"No," Ben said as he carefully led her along the short path behind the house—that much, she knew.

"Where are you taking me?"

He chuckled.  "Watch your step—there's a bit of a dip here, so don't trip over it."

She managed to get past it without incident, and she wrinkled her nose.  All she could smell was wind, dirt . . . She could hear the ocean, the rustle of trees like a thin whisper since so many of them were stripped of their foliage . . . "Can you tell me where you're taking me yet?"

"That would be rather anticlimactic, don't you think?"

"Hrumph."

He chuckled again, and he finally stopped, letting go of her hand as he stepped behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders.  "Open your eyes," he said, the warmth of his breath against her cheek, his lips, brushing gently against her ear with every word he spoke, sending a shiver down her spine and out to her arms and legs as her knees suddenly felt as though they just might buckle under her.

Opening her eyes slowly, she blinked, frowned at the building, easily a good twenty feet across, though, from where she stood, she couldn't quite tell exactly how far back it extended, either.  "A greenhouse?" she murmured, reaching for the burnished pewter door handle.  "Did you have this built for me?"

Ben shrugged, but his cheeks pinked just a little.  "Happy Valentine's Day, Cherry," he said.

She laughed softly, opening the door to step inside and gasped.  "You gave me a greenhouse instead of flowers?  Oh . . ."

The first thing she noticed was the pretty little waterfall built into one of the corners.  The water fell into a tiny pond, lined with rocks and small plants that would grow easily into the space, and she giggled as Ben stepped over, scooping some feed out of a small jar on a shelf near the fountain.  He dropped the feed into the water as five good-sized koi rushed the surface as Charity knelt beside the water to watch the fish.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

Ben shook his head as he hunkered down beside her.  "They're fish," he corrected.  "You're beautiful."

Her smile didn't falter as she shifted her gaze to the side to meet his.  "You amaze me, Ben."

He let out a deep breath, raking a hand through his hair as he shook his head slightly.  "Well, we'll see if you still think so after lunch."

She raised her eyebrows.  "You made lunch for me?"

"Nope," he said with a lopsided grin.  "Gin did."

"Is that right?  Then I'll have to thank her."

He took her hand and led her back to the middle of the greenhouse, casting her another grin as he strode over, shrugging off his coat and leaving it on the work bench before retrieving the basket that had been left underneath.  Charity took hers off, too, and laid it aside.  As cold as it was outside, in here, it wasn't, at all.  

There was a pretty red-and-white gingham cloth on top of the food, and he spread it on the cobblestone floor for her.  Charity knelt on it and reached for the basket.  "Oh . . . fried chicken, potato salad . . . biscuits . . ."  She laughed and handed Ben the container of chicken and dug out the other containers.  "I love her," she said, giving him a very serious look.

Ben was already biting into a piece of chicken, and he nodded.  "Me, too," he mumbled around the crispy leg.  "This is ridiculously good."

Charity was inclined to agree, and they ate in silence for a while, completely ignoring the plates that Gin had packed in the basket.  As far as she was concerned, it was about the best Valentine's dinner she'd ever had . . . And the company was nice, too, she had to admit . . .

Looking around at the pretty little greenhouse, she smiled as she picked bits off a biscuit to nibble on.  There were more than enough benches, racks for plants, along with a very large bin in the back for ready-to-use compost, though it was a lot smaller than the huge ones outside that were ready start filling.  An array of gardening tools was arranged over the workbench where the basket had been stowed, along with a bright red wheelbarrow, while rakes and shovels and hoes were hung from hooks on the wall nearby, but the sweetest thing, aside from the little koi pond, was the sitting area where she could relax and watch the pond—natural wicker furniture with pretty white cushions and an old-fashioned-looking oil lamp, suspended from a standing hook to provide ambient light . . .

There were even two small work benches, complete with pink plastic tools set up, too—very obviously for the girls when they got a little older.  All in all, it was absolutely perfect, and the out-and-out care that had gone into it was so obvious, so touching, that it brought a sheen of moisture to her gaze.

Ben wiped his hands on a linen napkin and frowned as he looked at her.  "Cherry?  You're not . . . Why are you . . .? Why?"

She sniffled and shook her head as she choked out a sound caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh as she launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck as she buried her face against his chest and babbled a bunch of sounds that didn't really make any sense.

He sighed, wrapping his arms around her and helplessly, a little pathetically, patted her back.  "It was supposed to make you happy," he said with a wince.  "I wasn't trying to make you cry . . ."

"It does!" she blurted, shaking her head as she struggled to find the words to say that could make him understand her feelings.  "I . . . I love it," she assured him.  "I . . . I -I love you."

And just as suddenly as she'd grabbed onto him, she let go, only to rise up on her knees as her mouth pressed against his.  He groaned softly, drawing her closer, pulling her onto his lap, her legs on either side of him, her hands holding his face, thumbs gliding against his skin as she sighed into his mouth, as she melted against him.

His hands rubbed against her back, claws snagging against her sweater, setting off round after round of delicious shivers as he coaxed her lips apart, as he flicked out his tongue to taste her, leaving her breathless.  She trembled, her hands slipping down, rubbing his shoulders, his upper chest, his skin, hot enough to scorch her through the thin fabric of his shirt.  Entirely too close, and yet, not nearly close enough as the shock of his fangs scraped against her lips, as his tongue teased her with slow, deliberate strokes, the rising swell of the sweetest inebriation as he invaded the recess of her mind, of her soul . . . With every breath, every sigh, every harsh moan, she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only hold on as he fanned those flames with a fierce gentleness, a deliberate exploration . . .

She rose against him, dragging her mouth away as her head fell back, as the incessant burn exploded into a sense of urgency that nudged all other thoughts aside.  His mouth pressed against her throat—sweltering kisses, slow, almost methodical, that obliterated her will, merging it with his own.  The hunger grew as she tugged at his shirt in a vague sort of way, fumbling with buttons as though her fingers were cast of lead, all dexterity lost to her, as if her hands were moving on instinct, seeking the velvet of his skin.  When she slipped her hands beneath the fabric, pushed the garment off his shoulders, down his arms, he sucked in a sharp breath, uttered a low growl that sent reverberations down her spine in an electric flash of unfettered passion.

Somewhere in her addled mind, she understood the impact that a thing as simple, as wanton as her touch, could unravel him as devastatingly as he could do to her, and that knowledge was heady.  There was something innately profound in that, in the intrinsic need to touch and be touched, and he understood it, too, didn't he?  The whispering feather of the lightest brushes, the sensation of just feeling the smoothness of his skin under her fingertips . . . He pulled her hard against him with one arm, using the other hand to cradle her head, to tilt her head back up, only to lay claim to her mouth once more . . .

Letting her hands slip lower, brushing over the hardness of him that was entirely too obvious, he groaned harshly, his breath rasping in the air like the rumble of thunder in the summertime, and she grasped him firmly through the unyielding fabric of his slacks as he bucked in her hands.

Pulling away from her long enough to drag the sweater up over her head, he tossed it aside, reclaiming her lips as he reached behind her, as he released her bra with a deft flick of his fingers.  She uttered a guttural moan as her breasts bounced free, as he pushed aside the picnic basket and lowered Charity to the floor . . .

She started to reach up, to cross her arms over her chest, but he stopped her with a fierce little sound.  Caught somewhere between a yowl and a hiss, it was an instinctive sound of the panthers, she realized in the back of her Ben-hazed mind.  Leaning back, staring down at her, he slowly shifted his weight to the side, freeing up his hand so that he could grasp her breast.  She whimpered, her back arching up off the cloth, rising to meet his touch as he flicked the pad of his thumb over the already distended nipple.

The lure of his perusal was inebriating, almost painful, as he took his time, touching her, kissing her, kneading the flesh he'd discovered under the sweater.  He sat up long enough to unfasten her jeans, to slide them down her hips, her thighs, grasping her panties and shoving them both down. It took a moment or two longer for him to remove her boots, but he heaved a ragged breath as he stared down at her, her body entirely bared for his inspection.  "You're . . . beautiful . . ." he whispered, making her wonder if he even realized he'd spoken out loud.  She didn't have long to ponder that, though, as he fell on her with a growl, his mouth, voracious as he kissed her hard, as he unleashed the passion that had been smoldering as it ignited into a full-out blaze.

"Ben," she breathed, tugging at the waist of his slacks.  She fumbled with the button that held them closed, managed the zipper with little trouble from her shaking hands.  Shoving them down over his hips, over his ass, she touched the skin she'd revealed as he gnashed out a harsh groan, his entire body going rigid as he fought for a semblance of control.

He slid down her body, kissing the rises, the vales, letting his fangs scrape over her nipples, over her belly, his hands stroking her sides, her hips, fingertips drifting up over her hip bone, down through the tangle of curls between her legs.  Every touch shot through her, every invisible trail left behind in his maddeningly thorough exploration erupted deep inside her, culminating in an ache so harsh, so consuming, that she felt as though she were going mad.

The frenetic energy that savaged her, the welcome, yet taunting lick of desire so strong that it left her mind reeling . . . He slipped over her, using his body to entice her, to drive her to the absolute brink of her control . . . Raising her higher, he settled between her legs, flicked out the tip of his tongue against the core of her as her world shattered into a million fragments, as she called out his name.  He chuckled as she shook, tasting her, delving his tongue as deeply into her as he possibly could.  She cried out again, her body quaking around him as he slipped a finger into her, as he closed his mouth over the part of her that throbbed the most . . .

Her fingers dug into his hair, and she wasn't sure if she was trying to hold him there or to push him away.  The sensations were too strong, too harsh, and yet, entirely welcome, all the same.  She couldn't tell where one wave of pleasure began or ended, lost in a realm of sensation as a new instinct kicked in, a new wonder, a new fascination . . .

Body rioting as he pressed one last, long, slow kiss against her, Charity struggled to breath as he dragged his body over hers once more, as he nuzzled against her throat, caressing her body gently, softly.  But the feelings wouldn't let go, the curiosity that surged through her, supplanting the satiation of the flesh.  Pushing against his shoulders, she straddled him, and the look of surprise, of wonder on his face vanished in an instant, eyes closing, mouth slackening, entire body tensing as she wrapped her hands around him and slowly squeezed and released him time and again.

"God," he rasped out, hands grasping her legs.  "Ch . . . Char . . . it . . . y . . ."

Staring at that part of him, she couldn't help the way her eyes rounded, the curiosity that shot through her as she slowly pumped him up and down.  He jerked in her hands, throbbed in her grip, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world when she bent over, as she lowered her mouth onto him.

He hissed out a sharp breath, unable to stop himself as he grasped her head, as he slowly pushed her down, only to let up again, aiding the jerky motions as she continued to pump him with her hands.  Focused not on what she was doing, and more upon the silent understanding that she was pleasing him, Charity sucked him in as deeply as she could, was rewarded with his ragged groan as her motions smoothed out, as she created a rhythm, a cadence, a dance.

The twitching in his body grew harsher, more erratic, as she increased the tempo, her hands opening and closing around him as she worked him up and down, as she drew him in and released him over and over again.  His breathing was rasping and shallow, punctuated by moans, by groans, by inept attempts to say her name.

Suddenly, though, he pushed her aside, his entire body tensing as he grabbed himself, as a strong arc of his orgasm shot out of him, rained down on his stomach, on his thighs.  "D-Damn," he muttered, half-laughing, half-sighing.  "Damn . . ."

She giggled a little roughly, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she stared at him, as a late blush brought on by her own brazenness suffused her skin.

"Come here," he said, lifting a hand as though it were cast of lead, curling his fingers to bid her come closer.

"Let me look . . ." she said, pulling over the picnic basket and locating a napkin to wipe him off.  She tossed it aside after a gentle but thorough cleaning and curled up beside him, only for him to drag her closer, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her lips . . .

"You're beautiful, Charity," he murmured, his eyes drifting closed.

"You are, too, you know," she replied, snuggling against him, savoring the feeling of closeness, of satiation, as he idly traced circles on her shoulder.

The chime of her cell phone cut through the idyll with a fierce brutality.  She blinked when he heaved a sigh, leaning back just enough to break the moment, to shatter it like a rain of glass that left her bleeding and raw somewhere deep down.

"You'd better check that," he said with a sigh.  "It might be about the girls."

It took her a few seconds for his words to make sense to her, and when they finally did, she uttered a shaky laugh and slipped out of his arms to retrieve her coat and the cell phone in her pocket.  Laughing softly, she held the phone out to Ben.  Gin had sent a picture of all six babies, all laying in a rounded play mat on the floor, staring intently at a stuffed dog in Bas' hand that he was entertaining them with.

Ben reached over, catching her around the waist to drag her back against him, resting his chin on her shoulder as another picture came through.  She leaned against his still-bare body since he hadn't bothered to reach for his clothing.  Savoring the feel of his strength that radiated to her in a completely nondescript sort of way, she heaved a contented sigh and smiled.

"They look happy, don't they?" she said, giggling as the next North American tai-youkai lay on the floor with the twins both laying on his chest.  Emmeline was leaning up on her hands, staring at Bas with an entirely cute kind of wide-eyed expression, and Nadia was entirely flat, reaching up to grab at Bas' face.

"He was always good with pups," she remarked as she texted Gin back to thank her for the pictures.  "He was a lot nicer to his siblings than Coral was . . ."

"Was she mean?"

Charity shrugged.  "Not mean, no . . . She simply didn't like to take the time to humor us when she had so many other things do to, like school work."

"You're not close to her?" he asked, rubbing his cheek against hers.

She sighed.  "Not really," she admitted.  "I mean, as close as anyone can be to her, anyway . . . Cassidy's a lot closer to her than Chelsea and I ever have been.  Maybe it was the age difference . . . I think she's just always thought of us as babies and never quite got past it."

He chuckled, taking her phone to get a better look at the picture of the girls and Bas.  "Does she still think of Gunnar as a baby?" he couldn't resist asking.

Charity made a face, reaching over her shoulder to grasp a handful of his hair and give it a little tug.  "Nope, just Chelsea and me—probably more me than Chelsea, actually . . ." She frowned thoughtfully.  "Come to think of it, pretty much everyone does that, including Mamoruzen, which is even more irritating, considering he's younger than us, too."

"You could always beat him up."

She rolled her eyes, but giggled.  "You're kind of a jerk, Ben Philips."

"You'd probably do better against him than I would . . . I think I need to see you fight."

She snorted.  "No, you don't," she grumbled, trying to pull away from him.  He tightened his arms just enough to keep her there.  "Baka . . ."

He laughed.  "So, Cherry, what did you get for me for Valentine's Day?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it closed again as a little laugh welled up inside her, and she turned her head just enough to give him an evil little smile, instead.  "Oh, you know, I just got you what I figured would be the most fitting for a man like you."

He cocked an eyebrow.  "What's that?"

She controlled the urge to giggle and leaned against him once more.  "A gift card, of course."

He rolled his eyes, but chuckled again.

She laughed.