We had all the time in the world to pack it in…
We took some of that time to enjoy round three.
THIRTY-SIX
The Stud and The Cheerleader
Mabel
The next morning, I stood in the cold and snow, under the shelter of the truck port, wearing Hutch’s flannel pajama pants, the drawstring tied tight, the waistband rolled several times, a shelf-bra cami under his big, chunky oatmeal sweater, my feet in thick wool socks shoved in my pink Uggs.
I had my hands wrapped around a cup of coffee that was quickly cooling, my hair was a sexhead, bedhead, lovefest mess, and I was watching five puppies poo and pee and play in the snow.
Before we’d come out, I’d dashed off texts to Abigail and Lillian, and received replies from Abigail (her fever had broken in the night, thank God) and Harry (Lillian was still in the throes of it, but she was being tended to not only by Harry, but also Ronetta, their next door neighbor and Lillian’s second mom, who’d taken over homemade chicken broth, and Harry didn’t say this, but my guess was she also took love, and that healed a lot).
Once the puppies had their business sorted, I started scooping them up.
As I took the first one (Remo) through the kitchen, Hutch, in another pair of his pajama pants, a thermal (that molded to his shoulders and lats like a loving hand, it was yummy), and wool socks, who was cooking at the stove, looked over his shoulder at me.
“They done?”he asked.
I set my coffee cup down still heading to the romper room.“Yeah.”
“Need help?”he asked.
“Need breakfast more,” I called from the living room.
I heard his soft laughter.
The dude knew I liked my food.
I got the last four in taking only two trips, went to his bedroom to switch the big sweater out to a lighter cardie (seriously, the kitchen was always warm and cozy) and take off my boots (but left the socks on), and by the time I returned to the kitchen, Hutch was putting our filled plates on the table.
Perfect timing.
He’d also warmed up my coffee.
Because, obviously, he wasthe best.
I sat at my plate, put my heel to the seat of the chair, knee tucked to my chest, and picked up my fork.
“This looks amazing,” I said.
And it did.
Cheesy eggs.Turkey sausage.And whole wheat bread toasted to perfection and buttered.
Better, he was my guy.
I was his girl.
We were in jammies in his log cabin, snow all around.
And the world was just right for the first time ever.
“My name is Ranger Emmett Hutchison,” he stated.
At learning this delicious fact, I had a smile on my face when I turned it to him.
