My stomach turned over on itself, souring in the process.
I didn’t want to spend the holidays around people, but that was my choice.
I imagined it sucked having to spend them alone when you didn’t want to. When you were probably the kind of person who thrived on being in the social spotlight.
Fuck it.
“Do you see your grandpa often?” I asked, eyes focusing on anything but him. Maybe it had no right to ask. Or what if it brought up bad memories?
“No. He, uh, passed six years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, cringing internally.
“It’s okay.” He shrugged, but I saw the sadness in his eyes. “My parents died in a boating accident when I was twelve. My grandparents on my mom’s side took me in. At that point, they were the only family I had. They were great. My grandma died two days after I graduated high school. Which sucked, but at least she got to see me graduate. It really hit me hard when my grandpa died. He was big into Christmas too.”
Damn. I wanted to kick myself for bringing down the mood.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, and I could tell he was putting it back in its box and moving on. “I didn’t ask if you are allergic to anything,” he said. His face was full of panic as he looked from me to the food he was making in front of him.
“I’m not,” I rushed to assure him, though it came out more of an irritated grunt and made me seem like I was being an asshole.
“Oh, okay, good.” He avoided looking at me. “Well, I made a lot, so there’s some if you want it. Don’t feel like you have to if it’s not something you like.”
With that, he got back to work. From the looks of it, he was wrapping it up and getting ready to serve it.
“Will you…” I cleared my throat and tried to ease the pinch between my brow. “Will you make me a plate? I’m gonna clean up real quick.”
His smile lit up the room, and when he turned his eyes on me, they were bright and happy too.
“Sure,” he replied, making it sound as if I’d made his fuckin’ day with that one request.
I didn’t fuckin’ get it.
I felt the scowl come back on my face as I headed for the bathroom.
Though it was more out of confusion than frustration.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Danny
Well… that wasn’t horrible. Though Mr. Grumpy walked away from me looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here, he seemed like he was going to eat the food I made.
Today had been a good day, and it looked like it might end on not such a bad note if he was going to join me for dinner.
I’d spent the day putting up lights and decorating. The way I saw it, I’d be here or I wouldn’t, but either way, I decided the place needed a little holiday magic. Oh, and while I was doing all of that, I tried hard not to think about my new roomie and how he was “workin’ on something.” Note that I repeated his words in a gruff, deep voice there. I’d watched him walk like a mile to a huge garage, that might have been bigger than this cabin, and disappear. No clue what was inside or what he did in there. I kept telling myself that maybe I didn’t want to know.
However, judging by dark stains on his jean vest and not-matching-color jeans, and the black around his nail beds, Iwould have said he was out there fixing up something. Like a tractor or a car… or his motorcycle. Hello! There was a thought.
The shower cut on, and I stood there for a long moment,notthinking about him stripping down to nothing. Nope, I certainly wasn’t having a desperately needy fantasy about him ducking under the spray or what he looked like all dripping wet and soapy.
My breath actually stopped as I pictured his chest. All that manly hair, that did nothing to hide his tight muscles. I conjured up an image of what he looked like below, you know, the part I hadn’t been lucky enough to get a peek at yesterday.
“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” I said to the past, present, and future ghosts—because if anyone was getting a visit this Christmas, it most certainly was Grumpy Pants—in the room as I fanned myself, suddenly all verklempt and in need of a glass of iced tea. A move I picked up from Jayden, no doubt.
Goodness gracious. I could not be in the same space as this man. I couldn’t. I had no idea where this was coming from, and I desperately wished I could block the effects he had on me.
Despite what I did for a living, I wasn’t really that much of a flirt or horndog. Well, okay, I might have been a big flirt, but I did it in a way that wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, at least in real life. It was a little over the top and blatantly obvious, and usually done on purpose. And while I liked sex, it wasn’t one of the things I actually craved all the time. Sure, it was a part of my ideal fantasy life with a partner, but when it came to fucking—as in, meaningless, down and dirty, “thanks for everything, okay, bye” fucking—I always found that I didn’t get much out of it.
