“Deckard,” the woman purred with her sultry voice and even January couldn’t hide the shivers it created. “Is this the woman you were telling me about?” January’s eyes immediately narrowed at the man that had barged into her life while she waited for his reply.
To January’s horror, Deckard wrapped his arm around the woman and smiled down at her before looking back at January with that smirk that had previously brought her to her knees. Right now, she was regretting every moment she let him hold her close.
“Yes, it is, Whitney. This is January. January, this is -”
“Nope.” January butted into the conversation with a hand saucily placed on her hip. “I’m leaving. I’m sure your. . .friend, Whitney, can explain it to you. Thanks for wasting my time.”
With her back now turned and the crowd filling in the space between them, January barely made out the sound of Deckard asking his far-too-beautiful companion what he had done wrong. She passed a hot chocolate stand, wishing that she had the time to stop and grab a cup of the frothy goodness, but in her anger, January stomped by without a backward glance – until she ran smack dab into a wall of muscle.
“Oomph,” she groaned as she rubbed the tip of her nose to ease it from the pain of the muscled mass collision.
“January.” Deckard’s voice was a strange mix of urgency and terror that put January on high alert. She had never heard anyone sound so anguished before and it made her look up and pause.
“January, I swear I didn’t do whatever you think it is that I was doing. Whitney is my dental hygienist,” at January’s uncontrollable growl Deckard added, “And my cousin.”
Hollowly, January replied, “Your cousin?”
“Yes, cousins. Whitney and I grew up together. We’re more like siblings. She came to see our grandparents for the solstice.”
Completely embarrassed, January turned both her body and her face away from Deckard as she aimed her attention to the gravel beneath her feet. She didn’t know what to do. Apologize, for sure, but she hadn’t done something on this level since high school. Groveling sincerely didn’t come naturally to January
“Deckard, I. . .” She was speechless. There wasn’t an apology big enough to encompass the jealousy she had felt and how she had lashed out at him – grouping him into all of the boyfriends of the past.
“Hey, I get it,” he reached out and gripped her hand with his free one. “I didn’t know she was coming in town this weekend or I would have mentioned it.”
Holding up her hand, January explained, “No. No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’
t have assumed what I did.”
“I can’t blame you. I would have done the same for someone I cared about.”
“I’m sorry, Deckard. I’m just going to head to the store and finish my shopping.” January fumbled through her words trying to back out of this conversation as gracefully as possible.
“No way. What do you have on that list? I can help you grab some things.”
“Shouldn’t you spend time with your family?” Deckard lightly grabbed her elbow and steered her toward the back corner of the marketplace.
“Nah, I see them enough and we’ll be with them tomorrow, remember? I’d rather spend more time with you.” He smiled down at her and January felt herself swoon with each step.
They reached the first destination and grabbed jarred spices from her ingredient list. “So, I’m sorry that I assumed the worst.”
“Stop, January.”
His command halted her and she looked up at the handsome man holding a root of ginger in his hand.
“I just feel bad, that’s all.”
“I know, and I get it. So stop apologizing. Now, let’s get your ingredients, I’m ready to try these gingerbread houses.”
With a small smile, January lifted another ginger root and reached for a jar of cloves. “Make, not eat.”
“Wait, we don’t get to eat them? What kind of establishment are you running?” In feigned horror, Deckard’s eyes widened and mouth hung agape, which only caused January to giggle.
“You eat them on Christmas day. Or at least that’s what we did. But we can also make some gingerbread cookies and decorate those.”
“See, I knew you’d come up with something for me and my stomach. I’m a growing boy.” He patted his flat stomach and January wished that she could slip her hand under his sweater and feel the taut muscles beneath. Because she knew without a doubt that Deckard didn’t have an ounce of fat on his delectable body.
Leaning toward her, Deckard’s lips just grace the edge of her ear. “Your cheeks are turning pink. What are you thinking about?”