I grin, suddenly proud. “Hawk and Eva helped. I bribed them with promises of manual labor and my soul.”
May laughs. “Worth it. What’s on the menu?”
I gesture to the spread, suddenly wishing I’d gotten a haircut, or maybe a new personality. “We have rosemary chicken, garlic bread, salad with Hawk’s homemade dressing, and some kind of crème brûlée thing that Eva swears is foolproof. Also wine. And if you’re still hungry after, I have an entire tray of gingerbread cookies because Mal doesn’t believe in portion control.”
May gives a low whistle, genuine surprise on his face. “Color me impressed. If you were trying to seduce me with food, it’s working.”
“Noted,” I reply, feeling about twelve feet tall. I pull out his chair, bowing a little. “Tonight, I’m auditioning for boyfriend. Let me impress you.”
He gives me a look, biting his lower lip, and I can see the gears turning. It’s almost dangerous how much I want him to like this. To like me.
We sit. I pour the wine, careful not to spill. May watches every move I make, amused and a little smug, but also genuinely appreciative.
We toast.
“To second chances,” I offer, raising my glass.
He clinks mine. “To better choices,” he counters, eyes bright.
I take a sip, and for a second, it’s just us. The world shrinks down to this small, ridiculous gingerbread kitchen, the flicker of candlelight, the soft hum of the furnace, and May’s perfect, devastating smile. We settle at the table, which is just small enough that our knees bump beneath the pine-and-heart-printed tablecloth. May pours himself some water and samples the salad, eyes going wide at the first bite.
“Damn. Whatever you put in this dressing should be illegal.”
“Hawk’s secret,” I admit, feeling warm all over. “I was just the muscle.”
He reaches under the table, squeezing my knee. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
That does things to me I’m not ready to talk about. Instead, I focus on the food, which, thank God, is actually good. We eat, making small talk and taking cheap shots at the décor.
“At what point do you think the snowmen achieve sentience?” May wonders, eyeing the army of ceramic snowmen on the windowsill.
I squint at them. “I think they’re already plotting. See the one in the back? He’s the leader. You can tell by the dead eyes.”
May snorts into his wine, nearly choking. “If I wake up in the night to a snowman standing over the bed, I’m suing.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “If you wake up in my bed at all, I’ll consider the night a success.”
He gives me a look equal parts exasperated and fond. “God, you’re such a cheeseball.”
Guilty as charged.
Chapter Nine
May
Guilty as charged.
I could come up with a dozen clever retorts, but the second I look at Miles, really look at him, that quiet, smoldering attention locked on me, I forget every word in the English language except maybe “yours.” Honestly, I can’t even pretend to be annoyed. I love this version of Miles, the soft, earnest, overachieving dork who tries so hard to make everything perfect. It gets me right in the soft spots. I’m weak for it. Add in the way he keeps glancing at me like I’m some kind of rare artifact he can’t believe he gets to touch, and…well. We’re about one more warm look away from me crawling into his lap and begging him to put me out of my misery.
I finish the last bite of chicken, savoring the bright flavors and the way Miles’s knee presses into mine under the table. I could go on pretending to be seduced by the food, but honestly, I’d rather skip straight to dessert, literally and figuratively.
I catch Miles watching me from under his lashes, that crooked little smile threatening to take over his entire face. “You want another glass?” he asks, already reaching for the bottle.
“I want you to stop pretending we’re not both thinking the same thing right now,” I fire back, tone dry. “Because unlessI’m way off base, you’re about one compliment away from dragging me onto that couch and having your way with me.”
He blushes, which is criminal at his age. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s been dying for it since you showed up on my doorstep the other night,” I admit, my voice lower than before.
