“He said to call him if we ever needed anything.”
“I’m not calling him. He’s already doing too much.”
“Oh, pish posh. He’s happy to help. And don’t try lying to me. I’ve seen the way you two have started reconnecting. I think he’s enjoying his time here as much as you are.”
Wynter rolled her eyes and pulled off her apron. “I think you’re trying too hard to play matchmaker. Maybe you need some new books. How about I go to town and pick up some when I grab us some bagels?”
Her grandmother scowled, but she didn’t argue.
Thank goodness.
Wynter grabbed her coat from the hook, and as she was about to head out the door, Marcus knocked. Well, at least she’d be able to avoid him for a few hours. Wynter reached for the knob and pulled open the door.
Her eyes landed on Marcus’s handsome face before dipping to the brown sack he held in his hand. He must have noticed her curiosity because he lifted the bag and held it out to her. “Nikki makes the best homemade bagels. I thought I’d bring some for breakfast if you haven’t eaten yet.”
Wynter couldn’t move. Not when she heard her grandmother’s soft laugh at her back. Not when Marcus’s quiet voice attempted to get past her shock.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.
“You… don’t like bagels?” Marcus asked.
Grams answered from behind her. “Oh, she loves them. That hasn’t changed, hon. Come on in. It’s freezing out there.” Grams moved forward, and Wynter was vaguely aware of Marcus’s warm body brushing up against hers. His fingertips grazed her own, and that new scintillating tingle raced up her arm from the contact.
“Wynter,” Grams called. “You coming?”
“Smells like something got burned. Everything okay?” Marcus had directed the question at Grams as they were entering the kitchen. Wynter turned to stare after him. How had he known? He couldn’t have, could he? No. He’d said Nikki made them fresh this morning.
In a daze, she pulled her coat off and draped it over the hook. Then she made her way toward the kitchen, catching the two in mid-conversation.
“Oh, I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Wynter isn’t getting out much these days. Besides that night she went out with Rose, of course.”
Wynter closed her eyes briefly, praying for patience. “What are you trying to rope me into now?”
“Marcus’s family is going ice skating tonight. I thought you might want to tag along.”
Wynter blushed deeply. “Grams,” she groaned.
“What? You love ice skating.”
“That’s beside the point.”
Marcus watched their interaction with obvious amusement. His eyes bounced from one Delaney to the next, and Wynter wanted nothing more than to wipe that smile from his face. But then he reached out and took her hand, stopping her argument mid-sentence. “Like old times.”
She snapped her mouth shut. Then bit back an exasperated smile. There was no arguing this time. They might not have ever sung karaoke before, but they used to love going ice skating together.
His thumb traced circles on the inside of her wrist, forcing her to look down at where he still held her. It was far too easy for him to turn her head into mush, and he didn’t even realize it. Her lids fluttered as she attempted to stop her brain from short-circuiting. “I… don’t…”
“It’ll be fun. We’ll get some hot chocolate and make up stories about the couples skating around the rink. Just like we used to.”
Against her better judgment, she met his eyes. Three years’ worth of Christmas memories flashed between them. Then she nodded. “Okay.”
Wynter snortedand nearly spit out the swallow of her lukewarm hot chocolate that she’d sipped from her cup. “You’re terrible.”
It had been far too easy to fall back into the friendship she had with Marcus.
He chuckled. “You can’t tell me he doesn’t look like Santa in disguise. Like he just came from the gym.”
She allowed herself one more peek at the man who looked like Hollywood’s version of Santa. But just like Marcus had described, he was dressed in a sweatsuit complete with a headband. Honestly, she was surprised he hadn’t been stopped by children as he skated around the rink with a younger woman who was probably his daughter. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”
