Page 16 of Bear with Me
"I thought you wanted the cot, or an air mattress, or somewhere else to sleep."
"It's not ideal," I said. "I just met you, and we both came here to be alone, so sharing the bed seems a little too fast, too soon." He was frowning again, and I wanted his smile, instead. "It's a really comfortable bed, and it fits us both, if I could remember to stay on my side."
He chuckled. "I didn't mind."
His face was close enough to lick his plump bottom lip and to run my fingers through the thick stubble of his beard. My hands were halfway to his shoulders to do just that when my fingers brushed the inside of my mitten. Mittens were the least sexy outerwear ever. I took a step back and dropped my hands back to my sides.
"Firewood," Ollie said with a sharp nod. "We should gather firewood from the woodshed."
When he said shed, I expected a building with four walls. It was more of an open lean-to off the side of the lodge with a roof to keep most of the snow off the seasoned wood.
Ollie laughed when I grabbed a piece in each hand. "You can carry more than that." He showed me how to hold my arms, and then he loaded me up with what felt like less than an entire tree, but a good-sized branch.
My arms and thighs burned by the time we got back to our cabin. Ollie stacked his on the porch and ushered me inside with the rest.
"Your pieces are smaller. I'll use mine to keep the fire going overnight." My pieces didn't feel small, but when he unloaded them into a pyramid on the stone hearth, it was half the size of his.
"Dinner," I said aloud to remind myself what I'd been doing before we left. The lasagna would take an hour and a half. "Do you want a snack?"
He looked like he wanted to say no, but his stomach rumbled.
"Loaded hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies coming up." I motioned for him to have a seat in the living room. Instead of the sofa, he picked the wooden rocker by the fireplace and pulled his e-reader from the front pocket of his flannel shirt.
I thought he wouldn't even notice the Christmas decorations I'd spread around the room, but then he called, "It looks festive in here. Is this why you went back to the general store?"
"Yes. I wouldn't have done it if I were alone, but …"
"Yeah." He stood and stretched, showing off a line of fur at his navel. Then, he ambled over to the counter and pulled out the stool closest to the little Christmas tree. Its fiberoptic lights turned all colors of the rainbow. It had mesmerized me while I baked the first batch of cookies.
I passed him the plate laden with chocolate chip goodness and turned back to the milk heating on the stove.
"Did your family go all out for Christmas?" he asked.
"Not really. We baked cookies together and watched Christmas movies, but that was it."
"Mmm." I turned to catch his expression as he bit into a cookie. He had his eyes closed as he licked the crumbs from his upturned lips and mustache. "So good. What did you say was in these, again?"
"Chocolate chips."
"Mm-hmm."
"Sugar."
"Yep. Not what I meant."
I laughed. "Applesauce."
"That's the one. Why do they taste like chocolate chip cookies and not weird apple cookies?"
"I happen to love apple cookies." I had a recipe that called for chopped apples and walnuts. They were delicious.
"These don't taste like apple cookies, though."
The milk was ready, so I poured it into the waiting cups of cocoa mix and my secret blend of chocolate syrup. Our cups had cute reindeer on them. I offered mine, and we clinked them together. "Cheers."
"Merry Christmas Eve," Ollie said.
I repeated the sentiment and grinned. I could do this, even with the memory of my parents lingering in the back of my mind.
