“Not sure, but, as a doctor, you’re probably organized enough to own one.”
“True. Hang on.” She closed the door and let him stand outside in the snow. A minute later, she shoved a box through the door. “My mom gave me a ten-quarter, imagining I have time to cook. Bye. Don’t come back.”
With that, she closed the door again.
Wow. Maybe she was a hermit as Erin has suggested. More likely MetroGen had a bad Thanksgiving too, and she was exhausted. Who wanted to make small talk after being awake for thirty hours? On the other hand, she gave a stranger a seventy-dollar crockpot without any hesitation.
“She gave you a crockpot?!” Erin said from her spot cutting vegetables. She had a fluffy pink apron on that read ‘Kiss the cook.’ A second identical apron lay next it.
Noah put it on without comment. He found a cutting board and split the turkey in half, putting one in the 9x13 and the other in the new crockpot. Once he shredded bread by hand, he realized Erin was staring at him.
“You know how to cook?”
“Fifteen years of communal cooking in the firehouse. And I covered most of Jacen’s cooking days so we didn’t starve. Can you scrub the potatoes while I make the stuffing?”
“You make stuffing? What are you, the perfect man issued by CCFD?”
“I hope so,” he gave her a quick kiss on the lips. It was comfortable, puttering around her tiny kitchen. For the next twenty minutes, they worked steadily while he talked through his techniques. She was an avid listener to his explanation of the benefits of cooking stuffing inside the turkey versus a separate pan.
“See, covering the turkey with the aluminum with the vegetables will cook it slowly without it drying out. Same as what the crockpot does. A solid five hours should be enough.”
“Five hours? What will we do with that time?” She untied her apron and then his.
Noah gave her neck a quick nibble. “Shower?”
“This is not the saving water type. The opposite of Veteran’s Day.” She headed to her bedroom, stripping down en route.
As if he would turn her down. Somewhere along the line here, he discovered he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. Never would he have dreamed his type would be a loud, energetic, fast-talking firefighter woman who was supposed to be off-limits. If he lost her, how would he fit that on a dating profile?
“Wouldn’t want to leave you dirty.” Noah got in with her.
They took several very very long showers. Noah worked to check every bit of Erin’s skin, getting her squeaky clean everywhere. Perhaps, occasionally, she begged or screamed his name, it was a hazard of the job.
And he did his job very well. He’d explored her with his fingers, mouth, and cock three times before they ran out of hot water, and he bent her over the bed one more time for good measure.
Erin excused herself to go to the bathroom for ten minutes and crawled back into bed with him. Noah had assumed his customary side on the left and cradled her in his arms.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Erin brushed her hand over his chin and the stubble forming there. He had skipped a shave this morning in his eagerness to see her. His eyes felt droopy because being here was too good and too perfect.
They dozed off naked in bed. According to her clock, Noah woke up almost five hours later with her hair tickling his nose. It was much softer than it had been earlier. He twirled one of her curls in his hand, trying to figure out the difference. “Cupcake, what did you do to your hair?”
“Cupcake? You’re going with that as my nickname?”
“Why not, though should I call you ‘Coconut Cupcake? You always smell like coconuts and flowers.”
“It should. I use a coconut oil infusion. It’s a Black girl thing. My natural hair dries out easily. I re-oiled it.”
“My ex’s hair was nothing like this.” Noah regretted his words instantly. Total party foul to mention an ex while in bed with someone else. He was so comfortable with Erin he didn’t think. She stiffened and tried to slither away.
Noah didn’t let her.
“Was she blonde?” Erin asked, her voice smaller than he remembered ever before.
That wasn’t the question she was asking. Beneath it was the larger question—Was she like me? Or was she like Angela? Even though they hadn’t put a name on their relationship, she deserved his honesty.
“Yes, blonde. Though we vowed for better or worse, Katherine only wanted the better. When it came to becoming a chief and the sacrifices—the time away from home, the nights I slept at the office—”
“She couldn’t hack it?” Erin’s features were conflicted as she processed it. Whatever was going on in her mind, he couldn’t ask.
