“Treat it with polyurethane when you get home,” Grak says.
The dad nods, and the mom snaps a picture. “I’m recommending this to all my followers,” she says.
After they’ve gone, I turn to Grak. “You need a break.”
“There are still many things to do.”
“I told you. You don’t have to prove yourself. You’ve done more than enough.”
“I have more to do. You are not convinced yet.”
“Did you do the setup in the craft shack? That’s enough for me to jump your bones right now,” I say.
Grak gets a gleam in his eye that triggers heat in all the right places.
“I would love to take the credit,” he says. “But I did nothing to the craft shack, except fix the broken hinge on the door.”
Looking at all that bare green skin is making me cold, so I convince him to come with me to get some hot chocolate.
“But I can endure,” he starts.
“Zip it, show-off. The farm closes for an hour at lunchtime, anyway. We humans do not endure.”
I take him by the hand and lead him past the barn to the little white shack. Once inside, I show him the hot chocolate setup.
I pour a cup for myself and one for Grak, topping his with extra marshmallows.
He takes the cup from me and smiles when he catches the chocolatey, sugary aroma.
“You’re telling me you didn’t do this?”
“I did not. I don’t know how to make hot chocolate without rum. Or Irish cream. Or whiskey, or…”
“Okay, I get it,” I say, laughing. “But you fixed all that equipment out there?”
“I did,” he says, tasting the hot chocolate. “This is sweet and hot and delicious, but not as good as beer.”
“And you repaired our sleigh?” I ask. I blow the steam off the surface of the cup and notice the way Grak stares at my lips. Heatcurls in my belly, and the urge to climb him like a tree is getting tough to resist.
Grak nods. “Kind of. I used parts of your sleigh to repair the one I stole from Santa. I believe Ron called it a Frankenstein job.”
I laugh. “That sounds like Dad. He likes you.”
“I’m glad. I hope I prove to be a worthy son-in-law.”
I roll up on the balls of my feet. “Don’t tell me that my dad has to approve before we’re officially married for good.”
“He does not, but I crave his approval nonetheless.”
I lean into him. “You don’t have to do any of this. But I appreciate you.”
“I like doing things for people who appreciate me,” he says. “I should get to work on fixing the horse stables. There’s a leak in the roof…what are you doing, Ginger?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to kiss you.”
Chapter Twelve
Grak
