Page 56 of Holiday Wedding
A few minutes later, I’ve cobbled together a meal for us. Warm soup and crusty bread I got from the bakery down the street. I slather the bread with butter, reminding myself this should be the last time I open the refrigerator. Don’t want the food in there to go bad. Look at me, being so responsible. So domestic and adult-ish. I snap a quick picture of the meal with my phone.
“Did you…just take a photo of your soup?” Dean cocks his head.
I sit down and spread a paper napkin over my lap, admiring the flicker of the candle in the center of the table. “Yep. I’ll send it to Gwen in the morning. She’ll be so proud.”
“Really?”
“She’s always been the practical one, while I’ve been the free spirit, more…” I wrinkle my brow, searching for the right word, “impulsive, I guess. I’m trying to be less that way. More like her.” I put a kettle of water on the burner and set it to boil. I have tea and hot chocolate. Hopefully that’ll warm Dean up.
Steam rises from the soup in his spoon. Dean blows on it. I look away from those full lips, swallowing thickly.
“Is this about your slip-up?” he asks. “Back in L.A.? When you told your friend that Caleb was staying with Gwen?”
“Maybe,” I say and sigh, my gaze downcast, staring at the tabletop, which is chipped and scarred.
“Gwen’s forgiven you, right? Caleb, too?”
I nod, the corners of my mouth ticking down. “Youwere mad at me as well. In case you’ve forgotten.”
He leans back and scrubs his hand across his chin. “That was more about me than about you.”
“How so?” I glance up through my lashes, taking in his pensive expression.
“I thought it would be better for both of us if I kept my distance. Staying angry made that easier.”
I place my spoon on the table. “Why?”
Before he can answer, the steam kettle whistles, the sound piercing. Dean flinches. I quickly hop up to get it, stopping the noise. Dean and I both choose hot chocolate, which tickles me for some reason. I find it amusing, this strong burly man daintily sipping a drink designed for children and chewing on mini-marshmallows. A sugar-free peppermint is my dessert. I suck on it until it shrinks to half its size, then finish it off with a loud crunch.
“What’s up with the candy?” Dean asks. “Why do you hide it?”
“It’s silly, a leftover habit from when I was a kid.” I stare down at my hands folded in my lap. “My brothers used to tease me. When I’d eat candy they’d make these noises, oinks like a pig. I learned to hide it so they would stop.”
I’m surprised I told him that story. Gwen’s the only other person who knows. She would get so mad on my behalf. I remember one time, when she’d had enough. Tiny Gwen had stood, hands balled into fists at her sides, and shouted at my brothers, “Leave her alone, you pricks.”
Dean has grown still as a statue. Even though he doesn’t move, I can sense some kind of internal storm raging under his calm exterior. In a tightly controlled voice, he asks, “Is that why you work out so much? Because of those noises your brothers would make?”
My head bent, I shrug silently.
“Give me their addresses,” Dean says.
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to kill them.”
I snap up my gaze at that. “It really wasn’t a big deal,” I rush to tell him. “It sounds worse when I say it out loud.”
“Jennifer. Anytimeanyonemakes you feel like there’s something wrong with you, when clearly there isnot, it’s a big deal.” Each word comes out measured. If I didn’t notice the tense set of his shoulders and the way he’s crushed the paper napkin in his hands, I wouldn’t know that Dean is enraged. “What your brothers did to you is BS. If I ever get to see them in person, I’d love to tell them that with my fists.”
Something warm spreads through my chest. My breathing speeds up. I’m suddenly aware of how small the room is, of how close Dean sits next to me. Who knew that threats of violence could be so alluring?
I notice he’s shivering. “You should take a shower so you’re not so cold. The hot water should work, right? Isn’t it gas?”
He relaxes his grip, letting the crumpled napkin fall to the table. Dean’s ears turn pink. “I don’t have anything to change into afterward. All my clothing got wet when I tried to dig the car out.”
I glance out the window and see only white. The snow comes down so steady and hard that it looks like someone hung a sheer curtain over the glass. “There are towels in there. I have a robe that might fit. Take a shower, and I’ll get it out.”
He takes a candle with him since it’s dark in the windowless bathroom. After I hear the water turn on, I quickly change into my pajamas, fleece with buttons and a pink plaid pattern. Very unsexy. I tuck my hair into a satin bonnet to protect it from getting tangled while I sleep. Then I grab my terry cloth robe out of the closet. It’s always been huge on me, so hopefully it’ll fit him. When the shower turns off, I wait by the door.
