“It most certainly is. He’s a great guy and hasn’t had a girlfriend for a while. As far as I know, you’ve got no crazy women to get in the way. Heck, even if there were, I don’t think he’d let them.” I pause and smile. “How’s his bruise?”
She blushes. Kaleb is headed our way with two coffees in his hands. “Here comes dark and dreamy now.” I give her a wink and leave for the bathroom to give them privacy.
On my way back, Jason saunters down the hall carrying his freshly tuned skis. I walk up and reach out for them. “I’ll go put these in the rack for you.” His head tilts in question, but he hands them over.
“Okay. Thanks.”
I return to our row and sidle up next to him. “So, I was wondering. Would you like to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?” Oh, my God, is this scary. What if he says no?
He ponders the proposal. Crap, he’s going to turn me down. A sly smile creeps on his face. “You could cook for me.”
Relief floods my body. “Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up so you can drink wine, and I’ll drive you home.” Then, making sure I seal the deal, I add. “Steak?”
“With the mustard sauce I taught you to make?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yes.”
I scream on the inside. “I’ll pick you up at six.” A little flustered, I manage to get my combination right on the third try and open my locker. Bill has just arrived, and I’m still horrified thinking about yesterday. I sense him next to me. Damn. I have to talk to him.
Bill says, “Hey, so you got a private yesterday, right?”
“I did. Why?” He’s a little closer than I like, so I step back and face him.
“Oh, just that it’s cool. You want to work those if you can. I can give you a few tips on how, if you want. What are you doing after work?” Oh, crap, is he asking me out? I look over at Jason, I’m not sure if he’s listening.
“I’ve got to get some things done today. Thanks for the offer.”
He nods at me. “Tomorrow?”
Oh, boy. I speak up a bit so Jason will hear. “I’m sorry. I’m making dinner for Jason tomorrow night.”
“Oh.” He says. “Okay.”
Whew. Hopefully he’ll get it, and we can avoid any awkwardness. Well, until I manage to make a fool of myself again. Something tells me I’ll find a way.
Chapter 51
I’m thanking Clara right now for having everything I could need. The table looks wonderful. The scent of cinnamon and apple fills the house as the pie cools on the stovetop. Potatoes are in the oven, and broccoli is in a pan for steaming. I sniff the bottle of Zinfandel that I’d popped open to breathe and smell a heady mixture of tannin and berry. Salty truffle cheese is sliced and ready on a plate in the fridge. I think I’m ready.
I tread soft carpet to the bedroom and take a last-minute look in the full mirror. Deciding what to wear was tough. My first thought was to go all out and wear a tight dress and heels. Then it occurred to me, sex is something we do well. As much as I would like to take Jason to bed tonight, that isn’t what this is about. Jason needs me to show him I love him for who he is and not what he does to my body. I opted for jeans and a scoop-neck tee. Just a hint of cleavage shows, making me look feminine, but doesn’t offer an eyeful if I lean forward. I give my hair a bit of fluffing and grab my ballet flats.
Walking down the hall, I look at Clara’s framed photographs. Touching one of her and Tim on a hike, I’m struck by the thought of memories. That’s what I want. I want years of history with Jason. At the door I kick off my flats and slip my feet into L.L. Bean boots, wrapping myself in the warmth of my coat. I’m off to get my date.
Snow crunches as I walk toward Jason’s house. Flurries float down as the porch light reaches out to the beginning of a promising storm. Jason opens the door before I have a chance. “You could have stayed in the car, I saw you pull up.”
“That’s not how a date is supposed to work.” I take his arm and walk him toward the car. “You smell good.” His woodsy scent is fresh, and his hair is still damp. I see a green plaid flannel shirt inside his ski jacket. I know it makes his eyes take on a mossy hue. This is my Jason. My heart does a little flip-flop.
He leans down and sniffs my hair. “You smell pretty good, too.”
I open the passenger door and wait for him to get in. “Buckle up.” I close him in safely and go to my side. He fiddles with the heat when I get in the car. “Isn’t this snow great?” I back out of the driveway.
“Awesome. Is it true it’ll snow almost every night in January and February?” he asks.
Shifting into first, I speed up. The flakes of snow fly at us like tiny stars. “I think so. I know it snowed almost every night when I first moved here last year. It’s amazing. I’m excited to enjoy all the powder days this season. Think we’ll ever get tired of it?”
“Us? No way.” He chuckles. I think he’s right.
Just a short drive to my house, we arrive within minutes. The view from the driveway is of the mountains, but you can’t see them tonight.
“This is a great house. Who do you live with?
“Nobody. This is my friend Clara’s house. We worked together cleaning last winter. Her husband is the one that died in the avalanche. She and her kids are in California now, and I’m paying cheap rent to housesit.” I get out of the car with the intention of opening his door, but Jason doesn’t wait.
He glances at the back yard. “Are those the woods that are near the new housing development?” He had to have noticed my driveway too, and I know he thinks it needs to be plowed. I’ve been lazy and just driving over the snow instead of shoveling. That won’t work much longer.
“They are. The snowshoeing is great. I found a few trails and need to explore a bit more. I bet you could get all the way to it easily. I’ll take you sometime.” We’ve reached the front door, and I scramble ahead to open it.
His makes a show of sniffing. “You made me apple pie?” His favorite dessert, his eyes twinkle.
“I did.” I slip on my shoes and walk to the dining room. Burgundy liquid glugs as I pour the Zinfandel. “Hungry?”
“I am now.” He joins me and takes the glass from my hand. He swirls the wine and sniffs, “Ah, good choice for steak.”
“Sit, I’ll get you some cheese and crackers to eat while I cook.” I light the candles and go retrieve the plate from the fridge. Adding crackers, I call out from the kitchen. “Have you ever had truffle cheese?”
“Truffle cheese? I don’t think so.”
I set the appetizer before him and perch myself on a chair. “Try it. My friend Tara works at The Wine and Cheese Shop. She said they just got this in.” I watch as he takes a bite. His eyes get bigger.
“Oh, yeah. I like it.” He puts more in his mouth and lets out a little moan. I’m tempted to kiss him, knowing I would taste the salt and wine on his lips. My stomach flutters a bit. I get up to turn on the grill.
Jason follows and stops at the doorway to the back deck. “I can grill the steaks if you want.”
“No, that wouldn’t be me making dinner now, would it?” I drag my hand across his stomach as I walk in toward the kitchen. “Just relax and enjoy this.” He slides the door shut for me, and I pull out the sauté pan. Onions and garlic sizzle in the olive oil before I add cream and spicy mustard. Once the sauce simmers, I sear the steaks on the grill. Jason has finished off his cheese and leans against the fridge in the kitchen with his glass of wine. I stir the sauce and can tell this amuses him. Cooking is what he always did for me. It’s not that I can’t cook. I just never did. In Vermont he worked as a sous chef while I waitressed. When he would prepare meals for me, he often explained what he was doing.
“I like watching you cook, Casey. You’re graceful and make it look easy.”
I glance over at him. “I enjoy it. Especially doing
it for you.” I do. It’s such a simple thing, but it makes me happy to know I’m cooking him something he’ll find delicious. “Now go pour yourself more wine. I’ll get the steaks and serve you dinner in a minute.”
I take care to make the presentation look restaurant quality. Placing it in front of him, I see he’s impressed. When the first bite hits his mouth, I know he is.
He savors the steak before he swallows. “You nailed that sauce. Wow. I haven’t eaten something this good in a while.”
“Don’t you cook for yourself? You guys have a huge kitchen.” I take a sip of my wine and let it linger in my mouth.
“No. I should, but I don’t. It feels like work to cook for just me.” He stabs a piece of broccoli.
“I know what you mean. I don’t get fancy for only me, either. I miss the meals you used to make. You fed me well.” With my fork, I dip a piece of potato skin in my sauce.
He puts his fork down. Leaning toward me he says, “I liked taking care of you. I miss it.”
Warmth spreads through my heart. I reach my hand out and put it on his. “I like doing things for you.”
He slides forward on his chair so he can take my face in his hands. When he kisses me, I taste the spice of mustard and deep flavor of Zinfandel. It’s a gentle kiss, but I melt.
Breaking away, he sits back with his glass of wine. I get up and clear the table. Setting the dishes in the sink, I call out to him. “Want the nickel tour?”
“Sure.” He comes into the kitchen and I point out the window. “When it’s daylight and not snowing, you can see the Continental Divide. It’s gorgeous. There’s a little yard with a swing set and sandbox. Clara’s kids, Benjamin and Jenny, are six and eight.” Walking down the hall, I point to the first room on the right. “This is Jenny’s room, and the next one is Benjamin’s.” We’re at the end of the hall, and I lead him into the bedroom on the left. “This is where I sleep.” I bring him to a framed picture. “This is Clara and Tim.” It’s a picture of them decked out in Telemark gear. “They used to go winter camping whenever they got the chance. Last spring they were out on Peak 6, and Tim got caught in an avalanche.” Tears hang on the edge of my eyelids.
“You mean Clara saw him get swept away?” I hear concern in his voice.
A lump in my throat forces me to nod in reply.
“I can’t imagine. She must have been so scared.”
“She knew he died quickly. She told me it sounded like a freight train, and there was no way he could have survived. It’s amazing the avalanche didn’t take her, too. Her kids would have been orphans.” Tears stream down my face. “It took them hours to find his body.” I think of Blaine and that awful day.
Jason wraps his arms around me. I let him hold me for a moment, and then I pull away to get a tissue. Wiping my eyes I say, “I’m fine.” I sniff and clear my throat. “I love all these pictures. There are so many great stories on these walls.” I lead him down the hall. “And here we are in the living room. That’s it. It’s a small house, but I like it. It’s just enough, you know?”
“It is.” He moves to the sliding glass door. “I’ll bet you stand at this door and look at the stars almost every night, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Do you still look for a shooting star to wish on?”
“Yes.” Cold glass chills my fingers when I place my hand on the door. I think of all those wishes I made in Vermont for a family. I remember how we fell apart when I told him, and he said he didn’t want children. “But my wish has changed.” I turn to him. “Now all I wish for is you.”
His eyes glisten. He tucks a curl behind my ear. I’m not sure what he thinks and I’m scared. I’m afraid he’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear. Before he can, I ask, “Ready for pie?”
“Sure. Give me a Casey cut, please.”
I chuckle at him. My idea of a piece of pie is almost a quarter of it, while his is more like an eighth. I prepare bowls of warm pie with vanilla ice cream. “Let’s go eat on the couch. We can watch a movie.”
***
After the movie he’s yawning, and I say, “I think it’s time I take you home. Ready?”
“I’m tired. All that food and wine made me fat and happy. Thank you. Dinner was amazing.”
I smile. “I like you that way.” He puts on his boots as I do the same. “I’m glad you liked it.” I remember to go get him the pie I packed to take home.
He walks out the door ahead of me and shakes his head. “Interesting plowing technique you’ve got going here.”
“I’ll shovel it. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. Not all of us have a plow, you know.”
He looks at me when we get to the car. “I might know someone who could help you out. I’ll send him by.”
I open his door. “Thanks. That would be great. How should I pay him?” I have a hint of an evil smile on my face.
“He doesn’t want your money. He likes pie.”
I hand him the pie. “Here’s a deposit.” I wait for Jason to get in and then shut his door.
Driving to his house, we’re quiet. The snow falls faster now. While tonight it came off the windshield with a swipe of the wipers, tomorrow I’ll have to spend a little time cleaning my car. Pulling into his driveway, my hands sweat with nerves. I put the car in park and turn to him. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”
He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he grabs my shoulders and crushes me with a kiss that takes my breath away. His hands thread through my hair, and my body reacts. I pull away with the intention of stopping, but he starts to kiss my neck. I moan. He returns to my mouth, and I’m swept away by passion. I move my hands from his chest to around his back. I pull him closer and can’t seem to feel enough of him. He breaks away, our lips part last.
I take a deep breath. “Wow, I’m not sure I can drive home.”
He snickers. “Just making sure you dream about me.”
“Don’t you know I already do?” I fan myself.
His eyelids are heavy with lust. “You’ll have to show me what we do in those dreams.”
“Is that an invitation?” I would so go up to his room right now.
“Maybe.” He grins and opens his door. “Thanks for dinner. Tonight was great.”
I watch him walk to his house. He gives me a wave before he goes in. I sigh.
Chapter 52
Merino wool is soft on my fingers as it glides through to my needles. Christmas is coming, and even though I know Jason hates this holiday, I’m knitting socks to give him as a present. His childhood wasn’t the most pleasant, and he told me holidays weren’t fun. I yank on the ball to release the tension and relax into the methodical clicking of my needles. I’m determined to create a few happy holiday memories for him. I hope every time he wears them he’ll think of me and smile.
Curled up on the couch with my project, I try to decide what cookies to make this year. I plan to give little tins of cookies to my friends on Christmas Day. The instructors with families get the holiday off, while the rest of us without children work. I don’t mind. I didn’t go home to my parents last year for the holidays either. Instead, I send a box with gifts ahead of time. I get one in return.
Megan and Nick have invited me to dinner Christmas Eve. Megan suggested I invite Jason. Yet I’m nervous. This is kind of a touchy subject from our past, and I don’t want to ruin how well things are going now. I decide a text might make it seem like no big deal.
“Dinner at Nick and Megan’s the 24th. Want to go?” I put my phone far enough away that I can’t check it every minute and drive myself crazy. I think about how tough the holiday will be for Clara this year. I know Blaine will be there for her and the kids, and it warms my heart. I mailed some gifts for the kids last week.
I hear my phone vibrate and get up to see the text. It’s from Jason. “Sure.”
Well, tha
t was easy. Another text comes in. “What are you doing?”
“Planning my cookie baking day. You?”
“Hoping I get some :)” He left it wide open. I can’t resist.
“I know just the girl. :D Want to come watch a movie?” That means I’ll have to put my knitting away, but I don’t mind because it also it means I get to snuggle with Jason.
“On my way.”
Minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. I open it and he steps inside. “Tell me about baking day.”
“It’s all about cookies. I make as many as I can. Then I distribute them in tins for friends as presents.” The door clicks shut behind him.
“Do you eat any?” His smile is playful as he sits on the couch.
“Of course, why? Do you want to help?” I sit so I face him.
“I might. But first I want to tell you something I should have a long time ago. It’s the real reason I hate Christmas. Remember I said I didn’t have the best childhood and that my father was dead?”
“Yes.” He’s looking so serious.
“When I was six, a week before Christmas, my father committed suicide.” I reach over and take his hand. “My mother was beside herself with grief and told me and my little brother there was no such thing as Santa and we would never celebrate Christmas again. And we didn’t.” He looks relieved.
“Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry.” Poor Jason. I imagine his sweet, little-boy face and how awful a time that had to have been. “No wonder you don’t like Christmas.”
“I’m fine with it now. It was a long time ago. I hardly remember my father. Every year Christmas comes around, and I don’t know how to enjoy it. This year I’ve decided I’m done hating Christmas. Will you help me?” Hope illuminates his face.
“Of course I will. Do you want to come do baking day with me? Hang on.” I hop up from the couch in excitement. Baking day is so much more fun with company. I grab the cookbooks from the kitchen counter. “Here, look through these and pick which ones you want to make.” I place the pile on his lap.
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