Page 77 of The Holiday Grump
I followed him back to the living room and sat on the floor by the fire. He joined me, his knee touching mine.
“I locked the door, by the way,” he said. “In case someone else decides to barge in.”
“It’s okay. Your mom sounds nice.”
He looked surprised. “Oh. Yeah, she’s nice, but not great with boundaries. I’m sorry she dragged you into it.”
“I thought it was cute! She wants us to hook up.”
“Hook up?” He looked amused. “If she knew what was happening here, she’d be planning a wedding.”
His words took the air out of my lungs, and I fought to push down the immediate panic. This wasn’t the Alford family. This wasn’t Spencer. It wouldn’t go like that. This time, I’d listen to myself and stay in control. I’d enjoy every minute of this extended harbor stay, but I was just visiting. And if I was just visiting, I was safe.
“I feel like I shouldn’t have said the word wedding,” he said glumly. “Please ignore it. Ignore my family.”
I stared into the flames, letting the warmth of the fire seep in. I had to lighten up. I’d seduced him, and we’d had a good time. Why was I making this into more than it was? We could have a fun holiday fling and leave it at that.
I got up. “Should we make lunch?”
I searched his kitchen for anything to cook with and found some eggs, powdered milk and a bag of flour.
“Pancakes or crepes?” I asked.
“You can make both?” He’d joined me at the kitchen island, and his gaze followed my every move.
“Of course! I like crepes with butter and cinnamon.”
“I think I have cinnamon. Does it go bad?”
I shrugged. “Don’t think so, if it’s in a sealed bag.”
“Use whatever you can find.” He gestured to the kitchen. “Maybe I’ll go out and split the rest of the firewood. I got a couple of felled trees from my grandpa’s property last week.” He nodded at the back door.
“Sure, go ahead!”
I felt a little more relaxed without him hanging around. Without all the hot topics I wasn’t ready to touch. We were playing house. His kitchen was so lovely and spacious. A little low on baking supplies and dishes, but I could easily fix that. As I mixed batter and heated his frying pan, I daydreamed about all the ways I could improve the space. How I could make it homier. More colorful. More functional.
Stop. It’s not your kitchen.
“Smells amazing!” he called from the door as I was setting the table.
My heart swelled at the praise and the sheer domestic bliss, with the sweet smell of butter and cinnamon saturating the air. How amazing it would be to live like this with someone like him. Someone who looked at me like that, eyes soft with adoration.
Fredrik took off his winter coat and approached me, his arms outstretched. My brain rang little warning bells, butmy body was faster, crashing into the warmth of his chest. He was so solid, holding me tight like nothing could get to me.
“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” I pulled away with a cheeky smile. “The jump!”
“What’s that?”
“You know… running into someone’s arms, and they catch you in a spin. Like inThe NotebookorDirty Dancingor maybe it’s more of a koala hold because I’m not much of a dancer. And I might be too heavy.”
“No, you’re not. Let’s go.”
He took a step back and spread his arms, his mouth pulling into a lopsided smile. I backed all the way to the far wall, then ran and jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his body. He caught me in a kiss, holding me off the floor, spinning us around until I felt dizzy, and the kiss dissolved into laughter.
“You’re really playing into my housewife fantasy right now,” I said, giggling into his chest as he lowered my feet to the floor.
“I thought it was my fantasy.” His voice was thick.
