“Here you go.” I pass him the gallon before I drop it.
There’s no small talk when he returns—a man on a cocoa-making mission.
But I can’t seem to keep my mouth closed due to all the nervous energy. “I’m still in shock. It’s just us for Christmas?”
“Looks that way.”
He pours the milk into a pot with a glug that echoes in the quiet kitchen. I watch his shoulders tense as he focuses hard on the stove instead of me.
“Two days.”
“Give or take,” he replies, gruff, stirring aggressively.
The silence stretches, thick and simmering, while the milk slowly warms under this careful watch. It’s ridiculously seductive for such a domestic task.
I can feel every inch of him even though he’s not touching me.
Whew. Two days of this? I’m not sure I can take it.
Face heating, I keep worrying at my bottom lip, my fingernail, the hem of my sweater. Anything I can do, trying not to stare at how huge and hot he looks in this kitchen.
How safe all that power makes me feel.
Spence breaks the silence first.
“I wondered if you were coming.”
It sounds like a confession he didn’t mean to give voice to.
“Marshall invited me weeks ago. He wanted to make sure I felt welcome, even though Justice had insisted I come.”
I lean against the counter, drawn in by his magnetic force field.
“Your boss said the team was doing a family Christmas. I thought it would be nice to belong somewhere for the holidays. Justice and I only got close again recently, but… you know that.”
His hazel eyes seem to darken as he tightens his brow. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I’ve been alone a lot too.”
Something flickers behind his eyes, like regret. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to downplay your experience.”
“You didn’t. It has been lonely.”
Until now.
“But being here with you makes me happy.”
Something in him tightens—only perceptible if you pay very close attention. He doesn’t reply, though.
“It’s just so strange everyone canceled… at the same time,” I say softly.
The way his body shifts isn’t the same as it was before, and that makes cold awareness trickle down my spine.
“They didn’t know I was coming, but I’ve got this weird notion that Marshall set this up,” he says, and there’s no sugar in that tone.
“What?” I blink, searching his expression.
“Think about it.” He starts whisking the cocoa mix harder than necessary. “Every couple had a reason to bail all at once. Sure, there’s a snowstorm, but they could have come early; it’s been forecast for days. Those men have the expertise to plan and execute elaborate missions”
I freeze. What I think he’s suggesting shouldn’t make heat curl in my belly, but it does.
