Page 14 of Deck the Fire Halls

“Not surprising at all,” I agreed. “Are you going home now?”

She was standing there with her bag, with everything turned off, so it was pretty obvious. But still... “Yes,” she said with a nod. “I finish at five o’clock.”

“Very good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“At eight fifty a.m.,” she reminded me. “I get here at eight fifty a.m.”

“Perfect.”

“You have the list I made for you,” she said.

I couldn’t help but smile. “I do. And I’ll make sure to adjust the heat.”

“Thank you for the brownie. I kept some for tomorrow. It’s in the fridge. Please don’t eat it.”

I had to purse my lips so I didn’t smile. “I won’t, I promise.”

She clutched her bag and stepped closer to the door. “Bye, Doctor O’Reilly.”

“Bye, Katie. Thank you for being so helpful today.”

That earned me a smile before she ducked her head and disappeared out the door. I locked everything up and was home by 5:20 p.m.

I hadn’t had an eight-hour workday, ever.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. I couldn’t even make my dinner because Soren said he was bringing it.

I had no clue what Soren expected. Was I supposedto have wine? Dessert? I had no clue and nothing to go on.

My house was clean and tidy, and I hadn’t broken a sweat all day, so it wasn’t as if I needed a shower. Normally after a double shift at my last hospital, I’d need a steaming hot shower to scrub away the day and decompress before crawling into bed.

Today I felt energized, almost.

It was weird.

I did a quick spray of deodorant and was going to brush my teeth but told myself not to be stupid—I was getting waaaaaay ahead of myself—so I opened a bottle of wine instead.

I’d barely had two sips before there was a knock at my front door.

It was far too early for Soren, so I had no idea who it could be. With equal amounts of curiosity and dread, I opened the door... to find Soren standing there holding a pot of something that smelled amazing, covered with tinfoil, and a loaf of some kind of bread on top. He was wearing a blue sweater and jeans and a smile that made my stomach swoop.

“You’re early,” I said, in a not-so-polite greeting.

“Saw your lights on, car in the driveway. And I was hungry, so I figured I’d come over. If that’s not okay, I can come back,” he said, looking back to his house.

“No, please. Forgive my rudeness. Come in,” I said, holding the door open in invitation. “Whatever that is, it smells amazing.”

He carefully handed it to me and began to take his shoes off. “It’s my mom’s famous casserole.”He got one shoe off and placed it inside the door, then his other. “I’d like to take credit for the recipe, but I’d be lying if I said it was mine.”

I walked through to the kitchen and sat it on the cooktop. “And the bread?”

“Ciabatta. Totally store bought,” he said.

When I turned to face him, the front door was closed and he was following me into my kitchen. Closer than I’d anticipated, and we were very much alone.

I looked for the closest distraction. “Glass of wine?”

“I can haveone,” he said.

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