Page 34 of Since Day One

Slowly, mesmerized, I raised my hand, pressing my own fingers against his and then my palm into his palm. Calloused and rough, controlling yet tender, I studied the veins that ran across his arm from the back of his hand. I couldn’t help but giggle at the massive size difference as his other fingers dropped from my neck and he placed his palm against the counter beside me.

“You have really large hands.” I giggled again, and he smiled.

“You have really small hands,” he replied with that cheeky grin that pressed dimples deep into his cheeks. A loud sizzling to my right snapped me out of the daze I was in, and I shrieked.

“Oh my gosh, they’re really burning now,” I groaned. Gunnar laughed while I attempted to salvage some of the eggs.

Leaning my head back, I frowned but didn’t remain upset for very long as he stepped into my back and wrapped his arms around my waist. I sunk deeper into the embrace, not a single care in the world that I should’ve been shocked by my movement but wasn’t.

“They’ll taste fine,” he said into my ear, leaning his chin against my shoulder as I pulled the eggs completely off of the heat.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” I grumbled, and he stiffened behind me.

“I totally forgot it was Thanksgiving.” He moved away to grab some plates for breakfast. I spooned half of the eggs onto each dish he returned with before looking at his piercing hazel eyes.

“I’ll try to make some sort of Thanksgiving dinner, but it won’t be anything like an actual meal,” I said, my voice quiet with shame. “I’m really sorry I got you stuck here.”

Fingers brushed against my chin, lifting my gaze from the floor. “Again, don’t apologize. This is a fun adventure, and whatever you make for dinner, I’m sure it will be wonderful.”

I furrowed my brows, attempting to hide the smile, but he saw through it and chuckled. “Why are you being so nice?” I asked, walking around him toward the table to eat, and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I have a consistently great view, and that makes me very happy.” He wiggled his brows, sitting across from me and blatantly staring at the cleavage I’d forgotten I’d been exposing.

“Of course that’s what it is.” I rolled my eyes as he laughed even harder and began eating half-burnt eggs without complaint.

We finished up breakfast, and, after using some more boiled snow to wash the dishes, we began playing Go Fish. Somehow, I ended up with my legs draped across his lap, leaning against the armrest of the couch, and he rubbed them absentmindedly as we played.

Bored of the game, I leaned over to toss the cards on the table and, in response to my question about his past love life, barely heard him mutter, “I was engaged once.” I twisted to see him staring at my toes with a wry look. “But, she ran off with my uncle.”

“I’m sorry, say that again? Your uncle?” I asked with disbelief, and he nodded, tugging at my legs to draw me closer toward him. I casually crawled into his lap as he threw his feet up on the coffee table.

“The day after she met him at our engagement party,” he added and I blinked, still not sure I believed him.

“So she met your uncle because you had a big engagement party for the two of you, and then she went and slept with him the next day,” I reiterated, and he nodded again.

“They actually got married too. Had two kids before he caught her cheating with one of his buddies,” he continued, and my mouth fell open even wider.

“When was all of this?” I asked.

His brows knitted together for a moment. “I was twenty-three when I proposed, so that would be eleven years ago, and then my uncle and her divorced four years after that.”

I stiffened in his lap, and he immediately stopped moving. “You’re thirty-four?” I squeaked, and he nodded. “You realize you’re seven years older than I am, right?”

“I’ve been aware of that for a while,” he answered, confused.

“Just double-checking that you’re not weirded out by it at all,” I said, watching his face relax.

“Should I be?” He leaned his head back against the couch and began running his fingers up and down my arm again.

“Not since we’re both adults,” I answered. “Anyway, after that, did you date?”

“I had a few flings. One girlfriend, but after that ended, nothing.” Gunnar sat forward and raised his brows in my direction. “Your turn. Tell me about this one boyfriend you’ve had.”

I gritted my teeth, wondering just how much to tell him and how much was baggage he didn’t need to know about. “I was sixteen when we met, and we dated for a year before I left for Texas,” I finally said, and he clicked his tongue.

“And you’ve at least gone on dates since then?” he asked. I could sense he wanted more details, but I’d never once told anyone what had really happened the night of my seventeenth birthday, not even Sally. This wasn’t something he needed to be burdened with, and I didn’t want him to view me as someone who was entirely broken. Not after I’ve spent years healing.

“Not really,” I answered, looking over at the fireplace to avoid his stare.

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