“You said you don’t have many decorations so I figured I’d help so your tree doesn’t look pathetic. I mean, unless you’re going for a minimalistic vibe.”
I stomped the dusting of snow from my boots before going in. I’d expected to feel nervous when I walked through his door because even though I was there to decorate, the real goal for getting together on a cold winter night was clear to both of us. We were going to seeexactlyhow much fun we could have together in as many different ways as possible. I mean, I’d worn my cutest bra and panty set so they could be enjoyed. As I crossed the threshold all I felt was... right.
Within a few seconds I heard the sound of paws racing toward me and I braced for impact. Instead, Dude came to a screeching stop and folded himself into a quivering sit in front of me.
“Wow!” I flashed the “yes” hand signal at him and dug a treat out of my pocket.
“We’ve been practicing, Teach,” Andrew said. “Wait till you see his recall.”
I kicked off my boots, then dug through my bag and handed Dude a giant bone that I hoped would keep him occupied for the whole night.
The tree I’d picked for Andrew was in a place of honor in front of the picture window that faced out to the fields in back, already decked out in tiny white lights. There was a fire burning because of course there was. He had music playing low and I gave him points for opting for something chill and loungy instead of Christmas music. There was no way to feel sexy listening to “Mele Kalikimaka.”
“You didn’t have to buy stuff for me,” he sputtered as he walked the bags over to the tree.
“Oh, I didn’t. I used to do a different Christmas color scheme every year at Frolic and these are leftovers from the past few years.”
“You don’t have any decorations up at Frolic yet.” He frowned as he took a box from my arms. “Are you going to decorate soon?”
I was the one who’d kept it minimalistic for the past few Christmases, sticking with a dog bone wreath on the door and a few sad garlands inside. But this year I could feel the old creative holiday magic taking hold of me again. Granted, it was later in the season than normal, but not too late to help my students feel merry while they learned “sit,” “down,” and “come.”
“Yup, I’ll get it all done this week. But we’re not here to worry about me.You’rethe one with the naked tree.” I felt heat rush to my face at my word choice.
“Not for long,” he said, gesturing to the bags and boxes at his feet. “Thank you, I really appreciate all of this.”
When he looked at me I realized that the Gibson Glare was long gone, replaced by something that sent a wave of warmth through my chest.Thiswas his weapon, the look that made me feel like I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and he couldn’t bear to glance away from me. No wonder his body count was so high. Who could resist a man capable of making you feel cherished with just a glance?
I wanted him so badly that I was having trouble focusing on anything else. After the way things had ended all those years ago I’d never imagined that we’d be here, but the truth was, deep down I’d always hoped we’d find a way. After hating him for so long I considered it my dirty secret, something I could barely admit to myself. And here we were, talking about Christmas decorations like we both didn’t know that the night would end with both of us naked.
I cleared my throat and tried to be present instead of thinking about ripping his hoodie off. “Happy to help. After all, I picked that tree. Gotta make sure it looks amazing, to make up for that unsightly bald patch.”
He laughed. “Yeah, the deer and rabbits outside have been complaining about it.” Andrew headed for the kitchen. “Let’s eat first. I made soup.”
Yet another shocking discovery in the man I thought I had all figured out. “Wait, youcook?”
He moved to the stovetop on the kitchen island and lifted the lid off a large pot, looking at me through the steam. “Of course. Doesn’t everybody?”
“Smells really good,” I said, breathing in a slightly nutty aroma. “What is it?”
“Mushroom soup.” He pivoted to look in the oven. “And bread that I almost forgot about.”
If I could’ve melted into a pile of lovesick goo at that moment I would’ve. Bread? Bread took planning. It meant he’d put forethought into our meal. He’d boughtyeast.
“Don’t be too impressed,” he said as if he could feel the swoon rolling off me like mist on a morning lake. “It’s four ingredients and you don’t have to knead it.”
“Too late. My jaw is on the floor.”
He put on the world’s unlikeliest oven mitt, a bright red thing with a gnome on it, and pulled out a loaf pan that had a mound of golden crust peeking over the top. “Perfect. Would you like honey butter or regular?”
I slapped the counter. “Stop it. Butter choices? What are you trying to do to me?”
He laughed and the rumbly timbre filled the room. “If it’s that easy to make you happy then I’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Once again he didn’t seem to realize what he was saying. He wanted to make me happy? After years of sniping, it was something I needed to train myself to believe. But itwasn’thard to believe that he’d be good at it. Because Andrew Gibson was good at everything.
“I feel bad I didn’t bring anything to contribute,” I said, the dinner party training my mom had instilled nagging at me.
“Excuse me?” He pointed at the plastic bags and boxes at the foot of his Christmas tree. “Anyway, this was easy.”
