Page 37 of Wintertime Love (Holiday 2)

A call from Aunt Vee in the evening has me delegating the tasks at the diner and rushing home to help her with the sudden rush of customers. She’s usually very organized but today, she’s all out of sorts. It takes me a few hours to get done and when I’m on the road back to the diner, I get a call from Aunt Helen’s friend, who I’m catering for. The food has arrived at her house but she needs me to help arrange it into dishes and set it up.

Sighing, I turn the car around and go all the way to the other side of town.

It’s past closing time when I finally arrive at the diner, tired and irritated. I want to drop off some things and then I’ll probably start on the decorations.

I enter through the back door and turn on the lights in the kitchen. The kitchen has been thoroughly cleaned, the countertops gleaming, the sinks sparkling. Shrugging out of my jacket, I wonder if one of my aunts has been by. Only they clean with this much obsessiveness.

A soft sound from the exterior makes me frown.

Everyone should be gone by now.

I dump my bag on the island counter and make my way towards the kitchen door.

I see the soft glow through the viewing window of the swinging door before I push it open to reveal all the tables and chairs pushed to the side. One table is in the center, covered with a red and white checkered cloth, with two tall candles, that I recognize from the house, lit up, providing a soft glow to the room. There are two covered dishes on the table, and a slender vase with three red roses. I hear the smooth jazz in the background. Finally, I register the man standing next to the table, watching me with a quiet intensity.

I step out of the kitchen, drinking in the sight of him wearing a suit with a waistcoat, his sleeves rolled up, looking so fucking hot that for a second, I consider where

to sink my teeth in. His hair is carelessly ruffled but it makes him look even sexier, especially the way the candlelight makes his eyes gleam like that of a wolf.

“Finn,” I murmur, helplessly. “What is this?”

He steps towards me and takes my hand. “Did you forget our date?”

I am guided to the table and I can do nothing but sit still as he unwinds my muffler from around my neck, his fingers deliberately scraping against my skin, making me tremble.

“We never decided when it would be,” I respond, feeling his hand bracket around my neck and feeling so utterly powerless as he presses down, forcing me to look up at him. There’s something different about him today, as he tilts my head back and I meet his gaze. There’s a look of raw hunger in his gaze and I know that tonight, I’ll give in to him.

Weeks of trying to fight him and tonight my last bit of resistance is crumbling into nothingness, and from the look in Finn’s eyes, he knows it.

“I decided for us,” he tells me in a low voice.

My eyes flutter shut, unable to take in the way he’s watching me.

He lowers his head and takes my mouth in a kiss that is slow and sensuous as it is sexual. It’s a languid mesh of tongues and teeth where he dominates it and I let him… a prelude to what’s going to come later on.

When he releases me, my breathing is harsh and he has yet to let go of my throat. He watches me, hungrily, and I feel the slickness between my legs. He finally lets go and I nearly let out a whimper, missing the warmth of his hand and the feeling that it’s lack of presence has taken away from me.

“I got your favorite dishes,” he informs me, taking his place across from me. “Your aunts were most willing to help out by keeping you out of here.”

I don’t even have it in me to be angry that I was dragged across town just so he could set this up here. Honestly, it’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. Nobody has ever put in this much effort for me and my heart is filled with an emotion that I can’t name.

He uncovers the dishes and there’s soft flame flickering underneath. A spicy chicken curry with boiled rice and grilled potatoes, served with a bottle of red vintage wine that I know came from our cellar. It’s an aged one, and one that is usually reserved for special occasions. I don’t know how he got Aunt Vee to agree to use it.

He pours us both a glass.

I take it from him and sip at it, after swirling it in the glass. “This is eighty years old,” I tell him. “They must really like you to let you bring this one out. I wasn’t even allowed this when I started the diner.”

Finn winks at me. “I can be very persuasive.”

“You just pretend you don’t know what the word ‘no’ means,” I say, wryly.

In that wolfish way of his, he grins at me. “And it’s every effective. But this time, I didn’t even have to ask. They brought this one out themselves and handed it to me.”

His words make me still and I take another sip of the wine, trying to hide how flustered I suddenly am. For my aunts to do something like this, that means they really like Finn. Like more so than anyone I’ve known. “Who cooked this?” I ask, changing the subject and poking at the chicken with my fork.

Finn smiles, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “I did. Helen stood over my shoulder and told me what to do.”

“You cooked for me?” I asked, stunned.

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