“Well, that did cross my mind, just to be scrupulously honest. But I have a slight problem.”
“What’s that?” This was going to be good; she could tell.
He turned around and bent down, his backside facing her. He looked at her over his shoulder. “My ass is soaked. I split my pants.”
Her gaze flew from his face to his posterior. “Oh my!” Beneath his torn ski pants, the denim of his jeans was sodden. She laughed aloud, then slapped a hand over her mouth in chagrin. She shouldn’t laugh at his condition. “When did you do that?”
“The first time I sat on that crazy disc,” he complained. “My nuts are freezing. Take pity on a guy. Let me warm up with a quick shower and then I’ll cook you something delicious. You won’t regret it.”
Ten minutes later, she stood in the living room of his tiny, one-bedroom suite listening to the shower run, trying not to think of Darius naked.
She forced her attention to her surroundings. The entire place screamed bachelor pad, especially the microscopic galley kitchen. How did he even cook in that space? There was less than two feet of countertop. There was no kitchen table.
The majority of the apartment was taken up by a battered leather couch and coffee table that had seen better times. Dented and scraped, it still looked sturdy. She wondered what tales it would tell if furniture could talk. She wandered around the small space examining the Christmas touches he’d added to the simple décor.
A tall narrow tree filled one corner, its fresh pine scent filling the room. Bedecked in multi-colored lights and dozens on Santa ornaments, it was both quaint and elegant. Though in her opinion he needed a bigger variety of ornaments. Snowmen, angels, maybe some glittery balls or gingerbread men. Even the tree topper was a light-up Santa inside a star of lights. Th lone ornament on the table was a snow globe with a Santa inside. Clearly, Darius had a one-track mind when it came to Christmas.
“Take a seat,” Darius said as he emerged from the bathroom on a wave of masculine scented steam “I’ll have food in a minute.”
“We can go someplace.” She wouldn’t mind at all. Despite working in her bakery all day, she still liked to eat out. Sometimes, nothing tasted better than what someone else cooked.
“It’ll be ready in a jiffy. Please, sit. I’ll make coffee.” He entered the tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders seemed to fill the small space.
“Got any hot chocolate?” she asked, dreading bachelor coffee.
“Are you maligning my coffee without even tasting it? Not cool.”
“Maybe just a little,” she teased. “I do make the best coffee in town.” She was proud of her personal blend. It had taken hundreds of tries to perfect.
“That you do. But I make a pretty mean cup myself. How about a mocha instead?”
“Great.” She wandered to the window and stared out at the snowy ground four floors below. Cars raced up and down the snowy street. It was busy for a Monday. One thing she didn’t miss about her schooling days was living in a tiny bachelor suite. Two rooms, if you counted the bathroom as a room. No couch, just a bed, a dresser and a tiny kitchen table with two chairs.
She still lived in an apartment. When her grandmother passed on, she’d moved into the two-bedroom apartment over the bakery. As much as she loved being so close to work, some day, she’d like to have a house with a big yard for her kids to play in. For now, she was more than comfortable living upstairs with Murphy, her cat.
The homey scents of hot chocolate and coffee tickled her nose. Outside she heard children playing and an occasional car passing by. It was a nice change from the noise of her place on Cranberry Cove’s busiest street.
“Hey you,” Darius said, standing right beside her. “Where did you go? You looked lost in thought.”
She accepted the whip cream topped mug and cradled it between her hands. “To the past, and the future.” She shook her head. “Sometimes, my mind wanders.”
“Yeah, mine too.”
Something about his words told her he meant he was thinking about her. He was different now. His confidence had morphed from cocky youth to competent man. He was kinder. Gentler. Yet still strong. He appealed to her more now than he ever had before. Thankfully, she was smart enough to avoid repeating that particular mistake. She’d stood on that hill before and wasn’t going there again. Darius was not the man for her. Not matter how delectable he smelled and no matter how perfect it felt to be in his arms on that sled. She’d play nice until the contest was over and she had the coveted trophy sitting on her bakery counter. After that, all bets were off.
