"Go big or go home, right? And yes, I checked last night while I was looking up recipes."
"Paisley, we're kinda home. We can't go anywhere else."
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "You know what I mean. Come on, you can shred cheese while I make the sauce."
We work well together. She gives me instructions, and I follow them. The cabin starts to smell like the turkey and cheese. I watch her as she stirs the pot, her tongue caught between her teeth in concentration, and I realize how much I'm enjoying this.
This is what I've been missing. Not just companionship, but this. The little moments. Not sitting o the couch by yourself, or cooking a meal with someone you care about.
"What are you staring at?" she asks without looking up.
"You."
"Well, that's not creepy," she jokes.
"Just appreciating the view."
Now she does look at me, and there's color in her cheeks that has nothing to do with the heat from the stove. "The view of me stirring cheese and heavy cream? That's a low bar, Chase."
"Maybe I'm easily impressed these days."
She laughs, shaking her head, but I can tell she enjoys that I'm watching her. "Cheese, mountain man. Shred."
"Yes, ma'am."
We spend the afternoon cooking and laughing. It's one of the best days I've had in a long time. We make the rolls from scratch, and I learn that Paisley has absolutely no idea how to knead dough. She attacks it like she's got a personal vendetta against it, punching and folding until I have to step in.
"Here." I move behind her, covering her hands with mine. There's a couple of times I've had to make bread out here when I've run out "Gentle. Like this."
"I am being gentle," she argues.
"You're assaulting it," I accuse, a smile on my face.
"It's dough. It can take it."
"Not if you want it to rise, it can't." I guide her hands, showing her the proper motion. Push, fold, turn. Push, fold, turn. "See? Easy."
She's quiet for a moment, and I realize how close we are. My chest is pressed against her back, my arms around her, our hands moving together in the dough. I can smell her shampoo, feel the warmth of her body against mine. This is what I've missed. Companionship and starting to have feelings for someone else.
"Chase?" Her voice is soft.
"Yeah?"
"I like this."
"Kneading dough?" I try to pretend it's not what's happening between us.
"No." She leans back slightly, her head almost resting on my shoulder. "This. What's going on between us. Whatever this is."
My hands still over hers. "Me too."
We stand there for a moment, and then she clears her throat and steps away. "We should, um, probably finish these before the turkey's done."
"Right. Yeah."
The moment passes, but the feelings stay as we finish the rolls, assemble the green bean casserole, as we make the apple pie for dessert. Every accidental brush of hands, every shared smile, every inside joke that's developing between us, it's all building into a feeling I'm not quite ready to name, but I'm also not going to deny anymore.
By the time everything is ready, the sun is starting to set and the sky is painted with pink and gold. It's one of my favorite parts of living out here. The sunsets and sunrises are the best. Paisley sets the table while I carve the turkey, and when I step back to look at what we've created, I can't believe it.
