Page 15 of Tied Up In Tinsel
“Then I’ll make sure to set a plate aside for you, too.”
The words startled me—gentle and domestic in a way I hadn’t heard in years. “Do you cook?” I asked, my tone casual, though my heart was suddenly racing.
Brooks nodded, the corner of his mouth tipping into something almost shy. “I love to cook. I don’t get to do it often, living on the road most of the time, but since I’m here, I might as well feed you two ladies while I can.”
That statement shouldn’t have made my chest tighten, but it did. It had been a long, long time since anyone had wanted to take care of me in even the smallest way.
“Honestly, it’s been too long since I’ve had a home-cooked meal I didn’t make myself.” I laughed lightly and took a small sip of my coffee, the warmth spreading through me in more ways than one.
“Anything you don’t like to eat? How about Ruby?” he asked.
“I’m not picky. Ruby’s hard no’s are mushrooms, bananas, spinach, and… oddly enough, macaroni and cheese.”
Brooks let out a low whistle. “What kid doesn’t like mac and cheese?”
“The kind who ate it every day for a month when her mom was going through a divorce and barely had two nickels to rub together,” I said before I could stop myself. The words came out too sharp, too revealing.
His jaw shifted slightly, eyes flicking away. “I didn’t mean?—”
“I know,” I sighed, cutting him off. “That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry. Old scars.”
He gave me a single, understanding nod, his mouth pressing into a tight line. “No mac and cheese. Got it.”
He finished his coffee in a slow swallow, then turned to rinse the mug in the sink. Brooks’ back muscles flexed with the movement, the ink on his skin shifting over the play of muscle, and I couldn’t not look.
God help me, I wanted to run my hands over every inch of him, trace each tattoo, learn what they meant. I wanted to know what it felt like when that strong hand wrapped around my throat or braced on the counter beside me.
Instead, I bit the edge of my knuckle and silently screamed.
When he turned back around, I had just enough warning to collect my composure by taking a massive sip of my coffee—toobig, too hot. It burned all the way down, but I managed to keep my face neutral.
One of his eyebrows ticked upward, a knowing glint in his eyes, and then he laughed. The sound was deep, rich, and sent another shiver through me.
“I should get going,” I said, tossing a thumb over my shoulder toward the hallway. Step by step, I eased backward, putting space between us before I did something reckless.
“Ruby’ll be up in about an hour,” I added. “Enjoy the peace while you can.”
His grin told me he didn’t mind the idea of losing it.
Brooks
Letting Ruby dress herself before we left to go shopping might have been the best decision I could’ve made.
I wasn’t just walking down the street in Snowberry Peak with a seven-year-old. I was walking with a pint-sized elf in a glittery green dress, striped red-and-white tights, and fuzzy reindeer slippers with tiny jingle bells on the toes. Each step made her feet chime like a holiday parade.
The only input I had was the puffy jacket I’d made her wear, and judging by her scowl when I zipped it up, you’d think I’d committed some crime against childhood.
“Are we going to my Tinsel & Tots?” she asked as we neared the row of little boutiques that made up Main Street.
“That’s the plan,” I said.
I’d figured checking out her go-to spot would be a good way for me to learn more about town. Maybe even earn a point or two in her very serious, very unspoken ranking system of people she approved of.
She pushed open the door without hesitation, the bells above jingling as we stepped inside. The place was… an explosion of pinks, purples, and sparkles. Unicorns wearing Santa hats danced across the walls in framed prints. Racks of sequinedjackets, tutus, and themed pajamas filled the space. I felt like I’d just stepped into the brain of a glitter-obsessed seven-year-old.
Ruby tugged on my hand, craning her neck to look up at me. “What’s my budget?”
“Budget?”
