"Holy fuck," he muttered.
I turned, saying, "Yeah, I know."
"Hey, Peach?" He gestured toward me, an odd frown on his lips. "Some other time, we'll talk more about that dildo, right? The oneyouhave, that is."
"Sorry but I'm not sure I can ever look at it again without thinking about finding one in an old shoebox." I shook that memory out of my head. "And just so you know, they can be very tricky to use well. It's a lot of coordination. You'll feel it in your abs for a week."
"Looking forward to it." With a nod, he walked over to the refrigerator, saying, "Get your coat."
I glanced out the windows. "Isn't it a little late for a walk in the woods? The sun's almost set."
"We're not walking." He held up a bottle of wine—my bottle—and plucked a glass from the cabinet. "We're going out back. We'll start a little bonfire and then I'm going to do my best to get you drunk. You deserve it, babe. After this conversation, I do too."
"Seems like a reasonable solution."
He knocked his knuckles against the box he'd brought in. "One of my stops today was at a dairy farm. They sent me off with a cheese plate."
I reached for my coat, held it to my chest as I studied him. "Do you usually get paid in cheese?"
He popped the cork on the wine. "When I ask if they'd put together something for me, yeah, I do."
"And how often is that?" I didn't know why I was pushing on this. I didn't know what it was I hoped he'd say.
He set the open wine bottle beside the cheese and grabbed a beer from the fridge before putting his coat back on. "Only when I have someone at home who lives for toast, wine, and cheese."
"The Old World Parisian way of life has always appealed to me," I joked as I shoved my arms into my coat.
I followed him outside to where the sun was low in the sky and the November air was cold enough for me to see my breath. Linden led the way off the deck and toward a small stone fire circle in the center of the yard, a pair of white Adirondack chairs stationed on either side.
"Sit down," he ordered as he dragged the other chair closer.
"You know, I would've done that without your instructions."
"Maybe." He set the beverages and cheese plate on a narrow table and stalked off toward the side yard. A moment later, he returned with a bundle of wood tucked under his arm. He pointed at me, saying, "Drink that wine."
"Didn't need that order either," I replied.
Linden only shook his head as he arranged the wood in the stone circle. It didn't take him long to get the fire going and then he settled into the seat beside me. He busied himself with removing the plastic wrap from the cheese plate and popping open his beer while I obediently sipped the wine.
Since I couldn't keep it in any longer, I asked, "You just keep sauvignon blanc on hand?"
He returned the plate to the table between us. "Why is it so difficult for you to accept that I have it for you?"
I stared at the fire, watching it crackle and climb. "It's not."
"Clearly, it is."
"You really don't have to do that, you know." I sighed. "You don't need to—"
"Has it occurred to you that I want to keep your fruity wine in my house? That I have a case of it in the basement because I want to have your favorite things here? Or that I want to ask dairy farmers if they'll take out their tree work in trade because you're mad for cheese? Has it occurred to you even once that I do these thingsforyou? And that I like doing these things for you?"
I went on staring at the fire while Linden stared at me. On the other side of the yard, I saw the black cat blink at us a few times before darting into the woods. Such a funny guy, always popping up at the most random moments.
Eventually, I said, "I don't know how to trust that sort of gesture."
"This is how." He held out the plate to me. "Eat something. You'll feel better."
I picked up a wedge of creamy white cheese with a black-speckled rind and a cracker studded with rosemary and raisins. "Thank you."
