Page 46 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
He kisses me hello and holds up a paper bag. “I brought supper.”
“You didn’t have to. I could have made something.”
“And now you don’t have to.” He sets the bag on the table, then holds me. “So, you can use your considerable talents for other things.”
“Maybe, but it depends on what you brought me,” I tease him.
He chuckles. “I thought we might try something different?—"
“There’s one restaurant in town. How different can you get?”
He smirks. “Itisa diner. Theydohave a variety, you know?”
I wriggle from his grasp and ask, “What did you bring me?”
“They’re trying some new recipes, so I got beef stew.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful.” And it is. Whoever cooks at the diner has a knack for making comforting, cozy foods. By the time we’ve finished, I have warm soup belly. We’re snuggled up onto the couch, watching the dogs enjoy the stew he poured onto their kibble. I ask, “How was work?”
“Not bad, but I spent a goodly portion of it worrying on you.”
“You always say that.”
“It’s always true.”
I smile. “Anything exciting happen?”
“Thinking about you.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Nope. And that’s just how I like it. A boring day at the firehouse is always a good day.”
“Makes sense. But you ever think of doing something else? Something more interesting?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve had more than enough excitement for a lifetime. No need for all that now.”
I should say something about not dating. Or whatever we are. Maybe I should stop snuggling him, if I’m going to do this right. But I’m so cozy right now. “If you’re done with excitement, then why are you helping Wes? With me?”
“He asked for a favor and I’m enjoying it, so I’m still doing it.”
I lean off him and look him in the eye. “I’m a favor?”
He smirks and tilts his head. “Do you really believe that?”
I shrug. “I’m certainly notun—exciting, Jordan. I mean, my life is not like other people’s lives. And if you want boring, then why?—"
He kisses me. “Stella, you know why I’m here.”
I swallow hard. “I do?”
Jordan strokes the side of my face. “I would hope so.” Then he kisses me and lunges, so my back hits the seat of the couch.
“Mm, wait.” I give a gentle push back. “I hate to say it, but I overindulged on the stew and if this goes any further, I might throw up.”
He laughs. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” He sits up. “Maybe an early bedtime?”
I smile and nod. “I have a belly full of stew, it’s a snowy night, and I could use a good nuzzle in a warm bed. How about you?”
