“Sounds like you’ve done it before, then. Don’t you have an example from last year? Or do you like making a new one for yourself too?” I looked at him over my shoulder to find a knowing gleam in his eyes. I shook my head and took a deep breath. He held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not here to judge. Make your Christmas Eve vision board.”
“I will, thanks.”
“How do they work, exactly?” he reached for a poster board after I’d already grabbed one for me. “Do you have to do it alone or something?”
“I just told you I do them with my entire class.”
“Oh, sarcasm, I must have hit a nerve.”
He waved his poster board at me until I shook my head and smiled. “I usually spend Christmas Eve alone doing this. I’m embarrassed to be caught because vision boards are very cheesy, and I prefer to live a life of logic. No one would believe I did them.”
“Great. It’ll be our little secret. Should I grab some magazines of my own or . . .”
My eyes grew large. “Are you trying to horn in on my tradition?”
He nodded. “Definitely. You’re alone, I’m alone, there’s an entire pile of magazines that needs reading. I’ll bring over the cinnamon rolls I made this morning. You’ve probably got a mean frozen pizza to cook. Sounds like a dream.”
I gazed thoughtfully at him. “You made cinnamon rolls?”
“In the spirit of honesty, you should know they’re from the freezer section. I just let them raise and then baked them.”
What could it hurt to invite him over? That smell of his combined with his everything else was drawing me in and tempting me deeply. I’d had a great time skiing with him, and just because we’d kissed the other day didn’t mean there was any pressure for something to happen again. We could be two neighbors sharing cinnamon rolls and gossip mags. I’d had worse nights.
I nodded. “Fine. Bring the rolls. I don’t have frozen pizza. I have frozen corn dogs.”
He grinned. “I’ll meet you at your house in twenty.”
He scooted away before I could take it back, and I had to laugh at the fact he knew enough to dash before I changed my mind.
Twenty-three minutes later he knocked on my door, and I swung it open. “You’re late.”
“I had to frost the rolls. Would you have really let me in without frosting?” He waved the rolls under my nose, and I took a deep breath. “See. Now you’re glad I’m late.” He followed me in, closing the door behind him. “So, how much glitter should I expect? I went ahead and changed into leisure pants, but I’m not sure if I should also wear an apron or . . .”
“No glitter. I’m against it on moral grounds.”
He laughed. “Yet another reason I like you so much. Glitter is the worst.”
My oven dinged, saying it was heated, as we entered my kitchen. I grabbed the sheet pan of corn dogs to put inside. “I’m oven baking these rather than microwaving them, so I hope you feel appropriately grateful.”
He nodded. “Microwaved corn dogs are soggy. It’s clear you feed to love.”
I laughed out loud at that and shook my head. “My sisters would not agree with that statement, at all. Food is not my love language.”
“What is?” he asked, setting the rolls on the counter.
“According to Hailey I’m an acts-of-service girl. She’s probably right.”
“So, me bringing you rolls and saving your life the other day are scoring me points?”
I shrugged. “If you’re hoping to score points, sure.”
He smirked. “I’m definitely looking to score points.”
We fell into easy conversation as I cut carrots into sticks and warmed apple cider on the stove. He was so relaxed and cheerful, with no hint of the awkwardness I was feeling toward him, that I started to wonder if the reaction to our kiss had been completely one-sided. Was his stomach not in knots at my nearness? Was he not worried about any of this? Based on the fact he ate three corn dogs and a heap of carrot sticks and sipped three mugs of cider, I assumed his stomach was doing just fine.
An hour later we sat in my living room with magazines spread all around us along with a growing pile of trash, each holding a pair of scissors in our hands. He was currently involved with a recipe for a pineapple carrot cake while I was learning about the latest British royal gossip. He snipped his scissors unconsciously while he read, and I took the chance to watch his face. He was entertainingly expressive. His eyebrows moved around a lot, telling me if he was surprised or confused about something he was reading. His mouth occasionally formed a littleOor moved into a flat line. As a person who was guarded, it was fun to watch his shifting demeanor.
“What do you know about buttercream frosting?” he asked, looking up to catch me watching him. He grinned.