Page 15 of Deck the Fire Halls

“Are you on-call?”

“Never not on-call,” he said with a shrug.

My god, he was so incredibly good-looking. It was baffling to me that he was in my kitchen, looking at me with those smiling eyes.

I poured him a glass and he took it with a smile. I was disappointed when our fingers didn’t brush...

Jeez. Get a grip, Rob.

You don’t even know if he’s interested, or inclined to be interested, or just being nice.

Though I was pretty sure I was reading this whole thing correctly.

“I didn’t hear your motorbike come back,” I admitted.

He grinned. “I didn’t take it today. Pretty sure it wakes my new neighbor up and I don’t want to get on his bad side.”

I gave him a wry smile. “Sorry about that. I don’t mind now that I know about it. And now that I’ve started work, I won’t need to set an alarm, so it’s fine.”

He chuckled. “I don’t take it every day anyway, soyou might wanna keep setting that alarm. I’d hate to be the reason you’re late.” He grinned behind his wine glass. “And anyway, I got to see your flamingo pajamas, so it wasn’t all bad.”

My cheeks burned. “I’ll never live that down.”

His eyes met mine and held my gaze for a beat too long. “Nope.”

A moment passed between us, not awkward—far from awkward—and a staticky thrill ran through me.

Wow.

What the hell is this?

“So,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “Robinson is an unusual first name.”

“It was my great-grandfather’s name,” I admitted. “His first name. He was English. Came over here in his twenties. I don’t know much about him, but my father has a cricket trophy with his name on it. That’s how I know.”

“Nice.”

“And your name?”

“Soren De Silva,” he said. “My grandparents moved from Argentina to Canada after the war.”

“Canada?”

“Yep. I’m actually Canadian. Just across the border in Alberta though, so it’s not even a two-hour drive from my house to my folks’ place for a Sunday dinner.” He nodded with a smile. “Been here in the States for six years now, Hartbridge for two.”

“Hm,” I said flatly. “So you’re a Flames or Oilers fan?”

His grin was spectacular. “Flames to the bone. And you?”

“Canucks.”

He groaned and let his head fall back. “Gah. I guess a gorgeous doctor from the West Coast had to have some flaw. Though they are Canadian, so you’re forgiven.”

Gorgeous?

I chuckled, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. “The Flames? And there I was thinking a Harley Davidson-riding firefighter who cooked me dinner didn’t have any flaws.”

His eyes were warm and shining. His tongue peaked out at the corner of his smile. “I can take my casserole and go home if you’d prefer.”

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