“You must promise not to laugh at me. Or gloat or allow your head to grow,” I order.

“Fine,” Landon says impatiently.

“Landon, I’m serious,” I say, my voice full of emotion.

Landon’s eyes soften, and he takes a step closer to me. “Brooke, I promise I will not make fun of your art.” His voice is full of sincerity, and I wordlessly hand over the portfolio. He opens it and flips through page after page of drawing of him. He is quiet, at first, not giving a single thing away about what he feels about them.

After a short while, I lose my patience. “Well?” I ask.

“Well what?” he responds, not taking his eyes off the drawings.

“You hate them, don’t you? You do! I will put them back away. I swear no one will ever see them but me. I—”

Landon kisses me then, effectively shutting me up.

Landon pulls away too soon for my liking. When I open my eyes, it is to a goofy grin matched with a pair of mischievous eyes.

“I had no idea you were such a stalker, Brooke.”

I pull away from him with a surprised gasp. “You promised you wouldn’t make fun, you jerk.” I punch his arm with as much force as I can muster.

Landon does not even flinch, just reaches out to gently restrain my arms. He makes tsk-ing noises at me. “Such violence for a tiny little lassie,” he taunts.

“You are a lying, scheming, no-good, mean…pineapple,” I yell the last part, and Landon quirks an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, did you just call me a pineapple?”

“Shut up, I’m hungry.”

Landon throws his head back in laughter that originated deep in his belly.

“Landon,” I whine.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s just too funny.”

Landon shakes his head, chuckling one more time before seriousness seeps through his eyes.

“Brooke,” his voice is a soft rasp as he pushes stray tendrils of my hair behind my ear, “your art is beautiful. Phenomenal. Masterpieces. I’m honored that you chose to share it with me.”

I close my eyes as relief washes over me. I did not know how much I needed his acceptance of my work. Tears spilled from my eyes, and Landon brushed them away before enveloping me in his arms. My dad always mocked my art. Destroying it. Destroying me. For Landon to praise it…it’s indescribable.

Landon kisses the side of my head before pulling back. “Come on, let us go get you something to eat. I believe there’s some pineapple in the fridge.”

I smile, my mouth watering at the thought. “Let me just put those drawings away,” I say reaching for them.

Landon holds them up out of my reach. “No way. I am framing these. I think the house needs some redecorating.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Landon’s mischievous smile returns. “I would.”

I reach for the drawings again, and Landon pulls them even farther from my reach.

“Landon,” I demand.

“Brooke.” Landon puts on an air of innocence.