Page 12 of The Holiday Exchange

Trevor winces. “I don’t think that will work.”

“Why not? I promise I don’t mind. Unless you’d rather I go get lunch somewhere and give you some time to yourself.” I hope he’s not already getting tired of me. I tried to keep the chatter to a minimum while we were working but maybe he’s ready for a few minutes of quiet.

Trevor is shaking his head. “No, I just mean I don’t think there’s anything here to cook. I’ve been putting off getting groceries.”

“Oh, I see. Well, it can’t be that bad. I bet I can still findsomethingto make, even if it’s not fancy.”

“I really don’t think so.”

For some reason, this feels like a personal challenge. Surely I can find enough food for a casual lunch for two. I march inside to investigate, Trevor on my heels.

“What are you doing?” he asks as I open the fridge. He’s right, it’s pretty empty.

“I’m taking inventory. I’ll make you lunch today if it’s the last thing I do. And you’re going to like it.” I punctuate my guarantee with a finger jabbed in his direction. I continue searching through his cabinets, feeling more and more unsure of what I just got myself into.

I stand in the middle of the kitchen, chin in my hand, thinking. I’ve almost forgotten about Trevor leaning against the doorframe watching me.

“Seriously, Kayla, why don’t we just order a pizza?”

“No, I can do this.” I’m trying to convince myself as much as him. The only place I haven’t looked yet is the freezer, and I throw my fists up in victory when I spot a pack of freezer-burned chicken and some mixed vegetables. “Yes! Now we’re in business.”

“What are you going to do with that?” Trevor looks dubious.

“Wait and see.”

8

TREVOR

Much to my surprise, I have to admit that whatever Kayla’s got simmering in that pot smells pretty good. I’m sitting at the table, watching her bustle around my kitchen like she owns the place. She looks right at home here. In fact, I come dangerously close to fantasizing about having her here all the time. Would she think I was creepy for telling her I think she’s definitely wife material? She might run for the hills and I wouldn’t blame her based on the tenure of our acquaintance.

She doesn’t seem to expect anything at all from me as she adds things to the pot confidently, talking all the while. Sometimes I can’t even tell if she’s talking to me or herself.

Finally, she clunks a bowl down in front of me with a flourish. “Voila. Chicken noodle soup with veggies.”

She slides into the chair across from me with her own food and extends her spoon in my direction. “Bon appetite!”

I clink my spoon with hers and take my first bite of soup. “Wow.” I take another bite and another. “This is really good.”

Kayla looks pleased with herself. “Thank you very much.Although now you aretrulyout of food. I think the only thing I didn’t use was the instant oatmeal.”

“Wow.” I can’t help repeating myself, awestruck by the sorcery obviously required to make a flavorful meal out of the meager ingredients I had on hand. It makes me wonder what she could do with a fully stocked pantry.

I’m hungrier than I realized, and it doesn’t take long for me to finish the first bowl plus a generous refill. I’m contemplating a third serving when she plunks a lid on the pot and slides it into the fridge. “You can have the leftovers tonight, which means you won’t have to get groceries until at least tomorrow.”

“Good thinking.” It’s probably for the best that I don’t eat myself into a food coma since we still have work to do. And now I have something to look forward to at dinner time.

“Alrighty, I’ll just get this cleaned up and we can go paint.”

I jump up from the table and intercept her on the way to the sink. “You cooked. I’ll clean.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Relax.”

She’s staring at me like I grew an extra nose while I was talking. “I’d rather help.”

“Seriously,” I say. “I’ll clean up.” When I try to take her soup bowl, she clamps down tightly, pulling the dish into her body. I tug a little harder. What is her problem? Why is she being so stubborn about this?

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