Such a perfect Chet answer. I smoothed his hair from his eyes affectionately. “But what if you could have anything in the world? A sixty-three Lamborghini or a year-long subscription to People magazine…anything.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t need a car or magazines. Thank you.”
“You have to come up with something,” I insisted.
“Um…What about you?”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “Cooking lessons. Know anyone who can help with that?”
“I might.”
We smiled at each other, letting the crackle and pop of the fire and the howling wind outside provide a sweet soundtrack.
It felt unbearably romantic to be stuck in a cabin with him, far from home and isolated from the world. I wasn’t prone to flights of fancy. And I didn’t necessarily believe in fate. But something was happening here.
This was different than anything I’d ever felt before. More vibrant, more real. Oddly enough, that made sense. There was nothing artificial or unauthentic about Chet. He might have a great imagination, but he didn’t know how to be anyone other than himself. And he had no idea how refreshingly sweet it felt to let my guard down and simply…be.
The storm raged all night and into the following day. The roads were cleared by midafternoon for necessary travel only. I figured there was a chance Chet might consider the trip across town to be with his family worth braving the elements, but he opted to stay with me.
We spent our time playing games and trading TV rights. According to Chet, every hour of sports highlights should equal a holiday movie. He found a station kicking off the holiday season with classics around the clock. Rudolph, the Grinch, Frosty, Miracle on 34th Street…you get the idea. It should have been a slow form of torture, but I didn’t mind at all. Honestly. I happily watched shows I hadn’t seen in years with a fire blazing in the hearth, snow falling outside, and a beautiful, sexy man snuggled at my side.
And yeah, we had a lot of sex.
We tried out the sofa, the shower, both bedrooms…we even made camp in front of the fireplace. That might have been my favorite, and if I were the romantic sort—which, I repeat, I was not—I might have called what we did making love.
We moved together in a slow, sweet symphony, completely one. He breathed out; I breathed him in. I didn’t want it to end. When I couldn’t hold my release back, I came so hard I saw stars. Literally. I was dazed in the aftermath, which had to be why I agreed to join him on Thanksgiving.
And to be honest, it was incredibly nice.
There were eight of us for dinner. His sister and her husband and two couples who lived locally and were close friends of Chet’s parents. The food was great, and the company was easy.
His sister, Julia, was a few years older than him, but other than sharing a big brain and chestnut hair, they weren’t much alike. She was more serious by a long shot. Somehow, I didn’t think a robust game of Cards Against Humanity would amuse her.
Chet snickered at my observation on the way to my cabin later that night. “She’s always been a mini mom to me. I’m glad she agreed the roads were too slick for a round trip to your place tonight. It’s also her nod of approval.”
“What do you mean?”
He kept his eyes locked on the road. “Julia likes you and she doesn’t mind that I like you. That’s all.”
When he stopped at a red light, I pulled my arm from my sling and reached for his hand, lacing my fingers with his. “I like you too. A lot.”
Chet snapped his gaze my way and smiled. Moonlight cut through the windshield, casting an ethereal glow across his handsome face. I think that was when I knew I might be in trouble. What I felt for him was bigger than any word I had in my vocabulary. And yet the simplest word of all…love.
But come on, it was crazy to say I was in love with him.
Love took time. Love had to be tested and honed over months and years of growth. We hadn’t known each other long enough to form that kind of bond.
Or did time matter?
I didn’t have answers and I couldn’t make any promises. I only knew that I wasn’t ready for this to end.
7
Chet
“This is the greatest tree ever! Let’s get this one, Dad.”
Lincoln skipped around the perimeter of the eight-foot noble fir like a happy kangaroo. This was the third “greatest” tree he’d found, but I had to agree, this was the best of the lot.
Sam had his hand on his son’s shoulder to guide him out of the aisle when a huge man hefting a tree over his shoulder marched our way. “Hmm. Looks good to me. What do you think, Chet?”