Chapter 6

Jayne had not done anything that night but run into her room and bury her face in the pillow—very much as Brownie had imagined—trying to ignore the strong feelings that had stirred within her while he was spanking her. The next morning, she had gotten up, and as she was stepping into the shower, she caught sight of her bare behind in the mirror. It was still quite red, she was surprised to discover and she blushed brightly at the thought of what had happened between them.

She wasn't at all sure what to expect from Pace in the aftermath, and she was not at all interested in finding out. So, she spent her time over the next few days avoiding him as much as she possibly could. And that wasn't an easy thing to do. It seemed as if every time she turned around, there he was. When she knew that he was working at home, she began to keep Brae in the bedroom with her, rather than joining him as they had been. When he took her son out to the barn, she declined his invitation to join them, politely, but she declined it nonetheless.

Jayne did everything humanly possible to spend as much time away from the house as she could manage. She went out on more interviews, took Braeden to the park and to the library, deliberately missing as many dinners with both Brownie and Pace as she could, and spending the majority of her free time in her room, rather than out with them.

Pace was beside himself. As far as he could see, he'd done exactly what he didn't want to do—he'd ruined everything, and he was raking himself over the coals for having been so stupid. He'd gotten used to seeing her everywhere, and now she was nowhere to be found. He'd approached her a few times, trying to get her to talk to him, but she was more elusive than he expected her to be, always dashing here and there, and he couldn't get a word in edgewise.

She didn't even spend as much time with Brownie as she used to, and Brownie wasn't going to put up with that, so a few nights after her brother had pulled her best friend into his study, she knocked on Jayne's door.

"Hey, I'm coming in." Typical Brownie—she said it, then she did it.

Jayne was just pretending to browse through want ads, but she was constantly distracted by thoughts of Pace—him laughing, him hugging her, and Lord knew she was replaying that spanking over and over again in her mind—in minute detail.

The other thing that was bothering her was that she was pretty discouraged that she hadn't had many nibbles on the applications she'd submitted, and the ones she'd had hadn't turned into anything concrete—like a job! She wanted to get out of here—she had to get out of here. Her nerves were frazzled, and she didn't feel quite as safe here as she used to. That wasn't quite true, but feeling horny about a man who had spanked her made her feel very conflicted and unsettled.

Brownie dropped onto the side of her bed. "So? What's with you?"

"What do you mean?" Jayne hedged.

"Don't play stupid. It's not a good look for you. You're harder to track down than Amelia Earhart lately. You're always gone; you're never at dinner. Did my brother do what I thought he did that night? Was I right when I called it—that you were in trouble?" She leaned forward and asked in a hushed tone, "Did he spank you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Jayne stated, closing her Chromebook.

"I saw you run like a scalded cat to your bedroom that night, but I didn't hear you crying, and I wasn't sure whether I should follow you or not, but apparently, I should have." She made herself at home on Jayne's bed, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaning back against the headboard, saying one more word, "Spill."

"I'm not going to talk to you about it."

"H-he didn't really hurt you, did he?"

Jayne sighed loudly. "What part of 'not going to talk to you about it' is confusing you?"

"The part where I don't get to see you anymore! If you're pissed at him, or whatever, don't take it out on me!"

Her friend looked genuinely surprised at her vehemence—as well as how right she was. "Well. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Do you want to go do something?"

"Now? It's nine o'clock at night, and I'm skyping with Hank at ten."

"I mean it. I'm sorry. Do you have time to get together Friday night?"

That perked Brownie right up. "Dinner? Meet me in Casper. We'll have a girls' night."

"Done."

Brownie hugged her friend. "I know it's only been a couple of days, but I've missed you. I've really gotten used to having you around."

"Thanks. You make me feel like an old dog or a worn pair of boots."

But Brownie just grinned at that. "You're welcome!"

Braeden took that moment to show his auntie the picture he had drawn of the four of them. "That is a wonderful picture, buddy!! That's gotta go on the fridge!" She turned back to the other woman. "So, you're mad at him, right?"

Jayne was trying to clean up the mess that her son had made with his crayons on the floor, while deliberately ignoring her friend.

"And you're avoiding him."

Still nothing.

"My money's on him spanking you," she began to speculate. "And it scared you, so you came whizzing past me while I was minding my own business in the living room in order to try to get away with him."

Jayne had paused at the "him spanking you" part, until she realized that was what she was doing, then she began to rake crayons into the big box she had for them again.

"Oh, so he did spank you." Brownie was much too eagle-eyed to have missed that revealing sign. "But are you afraid of him now or just avoiding him?" she mused, tapping her finger against her lips.

"Maybe I'm avoiding you, although that's gotten much harder since here you are!"

"Well!" Brownie pretended to be insulted at that, but it was darned near impossible to embarrass her about much of anything. "It appears that I have overstayed my welcome." She bent down and hugged Jayne again, saying on her way out, "Meet me at five thirty Friday." Then she paused at the door. "You do know he's just about ape shit about whatever happened between the two of you? I've never seen him like this about any woman. He's all discombobulated, for some reason I'm sure you know and are cruelly refusing to tell me. He's really into you, Jayne."

Jayne snorted loudly to herself after she closed the door, utterly unable to believe that that might be possible, as much as she wanted it to be.

And as much as she had no right to want it to be, since she was still a married woman whose ex kept calling her and leaving threatening voicemails and the same kind of texts, even after she'd blocked him and kept blocking him as he changed his number. At least some of the time she'd spent away from the house had been productive. She'd started divorce proceedings, which left her considerably poorer than she had been—which wasn't easy to do—but Jayne felt that it was a good step for her own mental health, at the very least to get the process of extracting herself from a very bad marriage started.

* * *

When Brownie walked into the living room, Pace stood up, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Did you just talk to her?"

"Yes."

"What'd she say?" he asked, not at all sure that he wanted to know.

"She said that she didn't want to talk about it. The only thing I got her to talk about was the fact that she might be avoiding you, but she shouldn't be taking it out on me, so at least you might see her a little more than you are now."

Pace sank down into his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. "I fucked up."

"Well, whatever you did, you made her wary of you again, I think."

"Yeah."

"What are you going to do about that, big brother?" Brownie asked, dropping bonelessly onto the sofa.

"I-I don't know."

It was a very rare thing for her brother not to have a plan of action about something, which is why she was so surprised that he hadn't done anything so far about the stalemate between them.

"Well, you better figure something out, or she's going to be out of this house and you're going to miss your chance with her."

"I don't necessarily agree with you about that, but I do think I need to do something, although I have no idea what."

With that, he turned and headed into his study, while Brownie remained in the living room, worrying about the both of them.

It was two more days before he decided what to do.

Jayne was a bit more present around the house, but it was even worse than it had been when she was first here. She was very skittish of him, and she refused to look him in the eye. He was heartbroken, but he thought that he might have hit on a plan that at least might get her to talk to him.

First, he got Brownie to agree to go away for the day, unexpectedly, without letting her friend know that she was leaving, so that when Jayne got up the next morning—later than she had been, to avoid him—she had no idea that Brownie was gone.

She and Braeden wandered down the hall, and the first thing her son did, of course, was run to him where he was standing in the hallway, as if he'd been standing there, gazing down it. Pace scooped the boy up in his arms and held tightly as he spoke softly to him.

With Brae still in his arms, Pace fixed his gaze on Jayne, who was fully dressed and walking well around him to get to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Jayne," he intoned deliberately.

Her, "Morning," was utterly bland, as if he was a stranger.

But that was more of a response than he'd been getting lately from her. "I haven't had time to have breakfast yet. Would you be willing to cook me some of that great French toast you make?"

"All right."

She still hadn't looked at him, but at least she was talking to him. That was something, he supposed. It was a small victory, but better than none.

Pace was looking forward to having breakfast with the both of them. He'd missed that a lot since she'd stopped coming out for breakfast at all. But it didn't quite turn out the way he'd envisioned it when she produced two plates—one big one for him with several slices of French toast, made with a little vanilla and cinnamon, sausage, and eggs, and one smaller one with a half a slice of French toast, eggs, and a couple chunks of cantaloupe.

Jayne put them down in front of their intended recipients. She knew that Pace would share a little of his sausage with Brae, but not too much because it would give him an upset tummy. She returned with his coffee and orange juice, as well as her son's apple juice box, but before he could say anything, she disappeared into the living room.

Pace leaned back in his chair, but he still couldn't see her. "You're, uh, not joining us?"

"No, thank you."

"Not hungry?" he asked.

"Nope."

He sighed, but the meal was much too good to waste, so he and Brae ate together, which was no hardship. The little guy was great company, and Pace would swear that he could see him growing before his eyes. It had only been a couple months, and he was already a little taller, he would swear, and a little less babyish, more like a child.

When they were done, he took their dishes out to the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, cleaned up the kitchen and wiped down the table before heading into the living room where she was.

* * *

Not having paid much attention to what he was doing, Jayne got up and went into the kitchen to do the cleanup, but he'd beaten her to it.

Even the table was clean, but she spotted something on it and went to check it out. It was one of those red and white Starlight peppermints, like they had by the bagful in the barn, just sitting there. Jayne shrugged. Maybe Pace had dropped it. He often kept them in his pockets for the horses and for Brae, who loved them.

He was still there when she went back into the living room, and she thought she ought to go back into her room, but she really didn't want to. Days on end of being in there by herself were just awful, and she felt terribly isolated. Maybe she'd go sit on the back deck or the verandah instead.

But before she could do either of those things, she glanced at his chair, and on the arm of it was another of those candies, again, just sitting there. It puzzled her but not enough for her to perseverate over it. It was just kind of weird.

"I think I'm going to head into my study for a little while," Pace announced, and when he left, the candy remained.

Jayne frowned, wondering what was going on, but then there was a knock at the back door. It was Pam. She was the wife of Pace's foreman. All of the hands adored Brae, doting on him something fierce. And Pam had a little girl who was just Braeden's age. Sometimes the two played together, and that was exactly what she was asking if her son might like to do.

"I'm afraid I can't come down, though. I've got to keep filling out job applications."

"No luck yet?" Pam asked.

"Nope."

"Well, something'll come up for you, I'm sure. I'd be glad to take him, though, and bring him back after lunch, in time for his nap, if that's okay?"

"Fine, thank you so much for coming to get him! You know he's got a crush on little Sarah."

"I know; they're so funny together."

"I'll take them next time. Thanks again!"

Jayne closed the door, noting the candy on the dining room table as she passed through again and, also, on the arm of his chair. It was so strange. What was going on with those things today? Did a bag of them explode all over the house?

Before she dove back into her applications—of which she was thoroughly sick by this time—she grabbed a couple of things off the coffee table that she thought probably belonged in his study. He was in there, so she wasn't going to disturb him, but she'd put them just outside the door so he could grab them when he came out.

And lo and behold, there was another mint there, in front of the study door! She picked it up and put it in her pocket.

It was on the tip of her tongue to knock on the door and ask him if knew what was going on, but she didn't. Instead, she continued picking up, creating a pile of Brae's things that needed to go into their bedroom. When she made the trek down there and was coming out of the bedroom again, she glanced at the door to his room, and there was a mint there, too!

Jayne scooped that one up and headed for the dining room table to gather that one, too, noting that he was no longer in the study, but in his chair in the living room, with that last mint still perched on the arm.

So, she crossed the living room to stand in front of him, closer than she usually did, feeling brave—or reckless—enough to dump the candies onto him, asking, "What's up with these? Do you have a hole in your pocket, or what?"

Pace grimaced and shook his head. "No. It was a stupid gimmick I thought would be cute, but you didn't get the reference."

She frowned. "What reference?"

"A while ago, Brownie told me that she'd told you Mischief's story—how I left a peppermint on his stall door to help him get used to me."

Jayne put her hands on her hips. "You think I'm a horse?"

"No, no, no, I have never thought that. I just thought it was a cute idea—you're, uh, timid around me again, and I…" Pace sighed. "Well, it worked with the horse," he said in his defense, which he immediately realized wasn't the smartest thing to say to her at that moment.

She actually squealed in indignation. He'd never heard her make that sound before, but he wouldn't mind hearing it more often. And then she did something that gave him a little hope. Not a lot, but a little. She leaned down and smacked his shoulder.

Pace had never been so happy to be hit in his life.

But when she pulled her hand back to do it again, he caught it before it reached him. "Ah-ahh-ahhh. You only get one."

Then, very gently and carefully, he corralled her onto his lap and into his arms.

She stiffened immediately, but he simply gathered her close, hoping she'd grow to relax against him eventually.

"That's not fair—you spanked me! I should definitely be able hit you at least as many times back!"

"That's not how it works, Jayne," he drawled, low and deep in his chest, when she really wished he wouldn't because she knew that it would work to relax her against her will.

She began to tremble a bit, which made him hate himself even more than he already did, but he forced himself to push those feelings aside in favor of doing what he hadn't been able to do for her a few days ago—comfort her.

"And when I spanked you a couple days ago, that's not how that works, either, just so you know."

She wasn't touching him, not clinging to him as she had that time he'd hugged her, but she wasn't trying to get away from him, either, which he considered a win.

And then she asked him a question in a small, tremulous voice. "It's not?"

His voice lowered even further, nearly to a whisper, and she could hear the earnestness in his tone. "No, baby, it's not. You got all of the punishment and none of the consolation."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I know you don't, and that's a terrible thing, and it's all my fault. I should have anticipated the idea that you would run after I spanked you, but I was much too selfishly absorbed in my own feelings of elation, I guess."

"Elation?" It was a strange word to use in regards to spanking, as far as she was concerned.

"Yes, that's really the best way I could describe it. You'd come into my study and sat very close to me, and you were across my lap, and I was spanking you. I was lost in all of the incredible feelings, at a time when I should have been thinking of you, first and foremost, and because of that, you missed out on one of the most important, best parts of a spanking."

"Huh?" Jayne had no idea what he was talking about, but she was definitely curious. She was highly doubtful that a "best part" even existed.

Pace gathered her closer to him. She was definitely unwinding, in fits and starts, and he consolidated his hold every time he could.

"Aftercare."

"Never heard of it."

Damn, he smelled good, Jayne thought errantly. He felt much, much too good, too—hard and warm, and his arms were holding her tightly but gently at the same time.

"I'm not surprised, but you should have experienced it. Spanking is a very intimate act, and it creates a lot of very powerful feelings for both parties, but most particularly for the spankee. You."

She met his eyes at that, and he could see the truth of his statement in her eyes.

"So, a good Dom or partner or whatever, makes sure that the person under his care—whom he has had to discipline—is held and cuddled and coddled and reassured afterward, in the arms of the one who cares about her enough to discipline her."

"Oh."

He shifted her a bit, in a way that encouraged her to rest her cheek on his chest, which, after a few moments, she did. Jayne could hear his voice rumble through it, and that made it even more comforting than just the usual sound of it.

"I'm sorry you missed out on it, but if you'd let me, I'd like to hold you now."

Jayne almost smiled, her eyes flitting to his for a second. "Aren't you already holding me?"

"I suppose, but I want you to let me hold you. You're here because I picked you up. If you ever allow me to spank you again, you should demand aftercare from me when it's over."

"I'm not the most demanding of people, Pace."

He squeezed her then relaxed his hold. "I know. But you have the right to be. If I have the right to spank you, you have the right to expect that I'll soothe you afterward."

She wondered just exactly to what extent he might "soothe" her, but she pushed that thought away with a tremble.

"I'm also incredibly sorry that I made you afraid of me again. That was not at all my intention, but then, sometimes I fuck up, too. I apologize."

Her eyes went stark wide at that, and her mouth hung open.

Pace was somewhat alarmed. "What? What'd I do?"

"You apologized to me."

"I was wrong. Of course, I apologized."

He was utterly unprepared for the way she flung herself at him, latching onto his shoulders and pressing herself against him. And crying, he realized, when the same shoulders and parts of his neck became wet with her tears.

"What is it, honey? Did I do something wrong?" he asked softly, huskily, worried that there was something enormous that he had missed in their relatively casual conversation.

She shook her head, but it was pressed against him. She couldn't do anything more than that, but she continued to cling to him, almost desperately. He carefully wrapped his arms around her more tightly, rubbing her back slowly and soothingly, while she wept so softly but deeply that his chest began to ache for her.

Then, just as suddenly, she reared back, brushing her hands over her face and apologizing to him, almost in a panic, her words running together so that they were hard to distinguish, as if she was terrified that he was going to be mad at her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cry all over you. I'm sorry."

"Shhh, shhh, shhh. I'm fine. You're fine. You can cry on me anytime you like, sweetheart." But she wasn't responding to him—she was lost in her own fear, and he intuited that it had nothing to do with him. So, he deliberately calibrated his voice to be low and soothing. "Listen to my words, and how I'm saying them, angel. You don't have to be afraid. You've done nothing wrong." He kept repeating those phrases, adding, "Your tears don't make me feel angry at all. They make me feel honored."

She had been stiff as a board on his lap as he held her, tenser than she had been with him before, but that had her looking up at him. "Honored?" she whispered disbelievingly.

"Absolutely. That you trust me, especially after such a short time, to be this close to me, let me hold you—let me spank you—and to cry on me? I'm deeply, deeply honored, honey. I don't really know what happened between you and your husband, but I do know, because I've seen it, that it's very hard for you to come to trust someone—especially a man—and especially a big guy like me. And yet, here you are. Yes, honored is the right word."

She sank into him then, as if all of her muscles had finally had enough of being held so taut all the time, and they refused to do so any longer. Pace gathered her to him with infinite tenderness, knowing she had made herself even more vulnerable to him at that moment than she had been when he was spanking her.

Eventually, she asked, in a tear roughened voice, "You're—you're really not mad at me?"

"No, I am not, Jayne," he stated flatly. "There's nothing for me to be angry about."

"He would be angry," she confessed, and it was his turn to stiffen.

"I'm sorry."

"He never—not in all those years—ever once apologized to me for anything, either."

Pace held her close, not saying anything, but trying to soothe her with his nearness if she could accept it, and it seemed she could.

"And he hated it when I cried." She paused. "For any reason."

He sighed, forcing that horrid information about how badly her husband had treated her out of his head to save his own sanity, and rubbed her back, holding her very tightly at last, not letting her see his deep frown about what she'd revealed to him.

But it passed quickly, because of her presence—because of the sheer joy of holding her in his arms.

* * *

For a long time—not that he noticed any of it passing—Pace just held her, not wanting to step on what he recognized as her grief. Eventually, when she stretched a bit, and yawned, he began to speak again. "I'm terribly sorry that you had to go through that. And I'll do anything I can to help you work your way out of it. But I want you know, with absolute certainty, that is not how I am."

Jayne nodded slowly. "I know that, deep down, even if sometimes I couldn't remember it, or I wouldn't be here."

Pace rubbed her arm. "I know, but I just want to say it, for the record. You can cry on me anytime you want; I'll never get angry about that. You always have a safe place in my arms. Always. If we should ever end up in a knockdown, drag out fight, you could simply walk into my arms and they'd close around you, and that would be that."

"Thank you."

Jayne was still curled up on his lap at this point, and he was holding her, but loosely.

"And, if I know I've done something wrong, or someone can show me that I have, I will always apologize. Not admitting when you're wrong is a sign of weakness in anyone as far as I'm concerned."

"That's good to know."

"So I am sorry that you didn't get to experience one of the best parts of a spanking. It's a really important thing for me to be able to provide that for someone I've corrected. I believe there has to be a balance in these things."

"I think that's a wonderful thing."

His hand began to slowly travel down to her bottom, which he cupped gently after she started a bit at him touching her there. "I don't suppose your bottom is still sore, this many days later, especially when it was such a light spanking."

"No, it's not. And that's a light spanking?" she asked in disbelief, meeting his eyes.

Pace smiled and nodded. "Yes. I didn't want to scare you, even though I ended up doing that anyway, but yeah."

"I beg to disagree."

"I would love to hear you beg," he teased.

"Yeah, no. Not going to happen. If it didn't happen with him, it's definitely not going to happen with you."

This time, he did find her chin with his finger, tipping her eyes up to his. "I know you're going to make comparisons, but he's always going to lose. I am not him. And when I make you beg, I'll make you like doing it, too," he informed her smugly.

She bit her tongue at that, not knowing whether she should just confess to him now that she was frigid, or if she could indulge herself with him a little longer. It did feel amazingly good to be where she was right now, knowing she was safe, and that he was interested in her and wanted to be with her. It had been so long since she'd felt anything this positive with or for a man.

Jayne leaned away from him, and he let her. "I should get up. You probably have no circulation in your lower extremities any longer from me sitting on you."

But Pace just gave her a big ol' grin. "Don't you believe it, darlin'."

Her blush could have lit the night.

"And besides, you're no bigger than a mite. If I was going to give you a rule, it would probably be that you were not allowed to skip meals."

"Luckily," she sassed back, "you're not going to do that."

"Don't be too sure about that, Miss Jayne."

There was a knock on the back door again, and it was Pam, returning her son, who tried to scoot past her. She caught his arm before he could. "What do you say to Miss Pam, Braeden Otis?"

"Fank you!"

"You're very welcome, Braeden."

With that, she let him go annoy Pace.

"Oh, I wanted to mention that I gave them lunch—chicken fingers and some carrot sticks."

"Thank you so much for doing that—and for taking him. I hope he wasn't too much of a bother!"

"Oh no! He's so much easier than my Sarah. I'm hoping his manners will rub off on her, not that I'm holding my breath."

They both laughed, and Jayne thanked her again before turning back to see Pace flying her son through the air.

"Someone does not need any more stimulation when he's just about to be put down for a nap," Jayne mentioned.

Pace immediately brought Braeden down to Earth. "Uh oh. My bad. Want me to put him down?"

"If you'd like to," she agreed.

Her son always went down for Pace better than anyone else, and it wasn't long before Pace was back in the kitchen, where she was foraging for lunch.

"Why don't you sit down, and I'll make us something?"

"You're going to cook?" She sounded amazed, and Pace gave her a fierce frown.

"I am. I'm not a bad cook. I'm not as good as you are—"

"You are a smart man."

He stopped. "I think that's the first compliment you've ever given me."

"Is it really? Hmm." She was sitting at the bar while he cooked. "I've given you lots in my mind."

Pace put the pan down, turned the stove off, and came around the end of the bar to stand in front of her.

"You have?"

He looked so unusually eager that she almost laughed. "Yes."

"Such as?"

Jayne eyed him coyly. "What if I'm hungry? If you're here, begging me for compliments, you're not making my dinner."

His chin lowered to his chest, and he looked out at her from a drawn brow. "Don't get cheeky, Ms. Landers."

She was flirting with him, and he was loving every second of it. But he also wanted her to tell him what she liked about him, however pathetically desperate that might be at its heart.

"I am never cheeky, Mr. Marshall."

Pace took a step closer to her. "And what if I decided to kiss it out of you?"

She looked a little startled at that idea, but he didn't back down. He'd wanted to kiss her since she'd gotten here—mostly, at first, he'd wanted to kiss those horrible bruises. But now he wanted to do that and kiss her properly, too.

He lifted her down from the bar stool, so that she was standing in front of him, and he actually had to draw a deep breath to steady himself. "I'm going to kiss you, Jayne Landers."

She knew that he was taking his time, giving her more than ample opportunity to say no. And although she was definitely nervous, even apprehensive, she remained right where she was, her eyes locked to his. "And I'm going to let you, Pace Marshall."

Still, when she'd given him permission to do what he wanted, he took his time and didn't rush her. He drew her to him, so that she was standing between his legs, and she put her small hands on his biceps as his palms framed her cheeks.

When his lips met hers, she let go of her fear, because she knew, deep down, this was right. It wasn't the proper time, or probably the best place, but it was right, down to the core of it, and that made it the proper time and place.

He was passionate and demanding, without being overwhelming or forcing her in the slightest. Instead, he coaxed and encouraged her, rewarding her responses to him—of which he hadn't expected much—with deep growls and hot, heavy breaths.

In contrast, she was quiet, as she'd been during the spanking.

Pace eased back a bit and kissed her forehead. "Cat got your tongue, honey?"

"What?"

"You're very quiet. Is there something I can do to help you enjoy it more?"

She was flabbergasted by the question itself and, also, by his comment. "I, uh, I guess I'm not naturally very loud. Jake—"

Pace nodded. "Well, if you're holding back because of him, you don't have to for me. It's one of the ways a man knows that he's satisfying his mate, and that's something that should be of extreme importance to every man."

"Oh. Sorry."

He put his finger over her lips. "No need for sorry. We're just talking and getting to know each other. No need to apologize, Jayne."

Then he tipped her chin up, his eyes searching hers. "Again?" he asked and was rewarded by her enormous smile.

And her eager, "Yes, please."