Page 34 of Never In My Wildest Dreams

After she got the microwave going, she grabbed paper from his printer and scissors from the knife block and sat at the dining room table. She folded the paper diagonally to form a triangle. After a few more folds, she trimmed the pointed end and then began snipping patterns.

Between the scents of popcorn and pine, the muted sounds of a snowstorm, and the snapping logs in the fireplace, a contentedness spread through her.

This.

I want a life like this.

Simple, quiet. Meaningful. Not the big showy Christmases she’d had with her mom where the intention had been to wow the guests with catering staff and extravagant décor.

“Those look great.” Carrying the fishing line over, he joined her at the table.

“Thanks. This is fun.” She reached for a new sheet of paper. “Hm. Let’s see. You negotiate well, you don’t take crap, you don’t make fun of my faults and weaknesses, and you do crafts.” She pointed the scissors at him. “You’re a kindergarten teacher.”

“Can’t stand kids, so that’s a hard no.” Before he sat down, he dumped two bags of popcorn into a bowl and set the next one in the microwave.

“What? How can you not like kids? What’s not to like?”

“Probably only child syndrome. I didn’t grow up with siblings, so didn’t develop a tolerance for them. But also, I’ve dealt with enough of my clients’ kids to know I’m not having any. Now, come on. What were you thinking as you looked out the window and saw a mountain of snow?”

“Just that, if we were on a sinking boat, I wouldn’t know how to save us.”

He looked up from stringing popcorn. “Are there life jackets?”

“I don’t know. How would I know that?”

“You’d find out as soon as you boarded. If they didn’t tell you, you’d ask where they keep them. They’re either on the bow side, the starboard side behind the console, or under the gunwale caps in the hull. But don’t worry. You’d have time to find them. And even if it does capsize, it might still float.”

“See, you know all that. I don’t.” She snipped off the tip of her folded paper. “I’m really good at my job. I know what I’m doing, and I feel—well, Ifelt—confident. But take me out of that world, and I’m useless.”

“Isn’t that true for all of us? But also, from what I’ve heard, you’ve used it as an opportunity to learn shit. Just this morning, you learned how to make a fire.”

“And grate cheese.”

“See that? Think of all the things you’ve learned these past few months.” He flashed her a grin before he got up to put another bag of popcorn in. When he came back to the table, he tore open the bag and added it to the bowl. Once settled, he took a sip of his coffee and scowled. “I’m not drinking this shit. I’ve got some good beans in the car.” He got up and headed for the door. “I’m going to bring in some more groceries.”

Before he could step outside, she called, “Do you need help?”

“No, you keep working. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the door snicked shut, she broke into a smile. A warmth from deep within spread and flickered. There was something about this man that just…worked for her. She couldn’t explain it.

How could she feel so comfortable, so at ease, with a man she’d known less than twenty-four hours? She didn’t know, but somehow, he offered her hope. Being with the same man for a decade—there was nothing new. Nothing to be discovered.

With Slick, she was uncovering new sides of herself, new feelings. And she loved it because it meant the same held true for her creative side.

There’s more for me than being a singer/songwriter who tours the world.

Been there done that.

Now, for the first time, she felt excited about her future. Being with Slick had cracked her open, making her see she had a whole treasure chest of possibilities inside her.

She was so happy to hear his footsteps crunching in the snow, she dropped the scissors and ran to the door. The moment she opened it, a blast of Arctic air hit her square in the face, but she didn’t care. He stood there, tall, strong, powerful, his arms loaded with bags.

“Here.” She reached for them, but he pushed past her and entered the cabin.

“I got it.” He stomped his boots in the entryway, dragged the soles on the coarse mat, and then headed into the kitchen where he dumped the bags on the floor.

She peered into them. “Did you leave any food on the shelves?”

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