Page 15 of Celebrating the Season

Ellery’s lips quirked in a smile as he descended the steps. “Hey yourself, kid.” His eyes swept over me, concern creasing his brow. “You okay? You look a little pale.”

I waved off his worry. “Oh, I probably need to eat.”

His frown deepened. “Have you eaten since breakfast?”

I opened my mouth to lie, then thought better of it. Something about those eyes made me want to be honest. “Uh… Not really?”

Ellery shook his head, his expression a mix of exasperation and fondness that made my insides go gooey. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward the cabin. The heat of his body against mine sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cold. “Come on. I’m feeding you before we do anything else.”

“But—” I protested, even as my traitorous stomach growled loudly.

“No buts,” Ellery said firmly, his hand sliding down to the small of my back. “Well, maybe one butt. But food first.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, letting myself be steered inside. “Yes, Sir,” I teased, delighting in the way his eyes darkened at the words.

As we stepped inside, the contrast with my sterile motel room hit me like a punch to the gut. This… This was a home.

The scent of pine and cinnamon enveloped me as Ellery led me into the kitchen. Warm light from copper pendant lamps cast a golden glow over the rustic space, highlighting the worn wooden countertops and well-used cast-iron pans hanging from hooks.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Ellery said, gesturing to a stool at the kitchen island. “I’ll whip up something quick.”

I hopped onto the stool, my legs swinging like a kid’s as I watched Ellery move around the kitchen with practiced ease. He pulled ingredients from the fridge—eggs, cheese, some veggies—and set a pan on the stove.

“So, uh, what’re you making?” I asked, trying to fill the silence.

Ellery glanced over his shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. “Frittata. Simple but filling.”

“Fancy. I usually go for cereal when I remember to eat.”

His hands stilled for a moment, and the muscles in his back tensed. When he spoke, his voice was gruff with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. “You need to take better care of yourself, Boaz.”

My cheeks heated up. “I know, I know. It’s hard, you know? Like, I’ll be in the middle of a commission, and suddenly it’s three a.m., and I’m starving but too tired to cook. And it’s so much effort to cook for me alone. It doesn’t seem worth it.”

Ellery nodded, his focus on chopping vegetables. “I get it. Life can get overwhelming. But you gotta fuel that gorgeous body of yours.”

As he spoke, he cracked eggs into a bowl with one hand, whisking them with the other. The casual display of competence made my mouth go dry.

“Want to help?” he asked, breaking me out of my trance.

“Oh, uh, sure.” I stumbled off the stool. “Fair warning, though, I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

Ellery chuckled, the sound warm and rich. “I think I can handle it. Here, grate this cheese for me.”

He handed me a block of cheddar and a grater, his fingers brushing mine. The brief contact sent sparks shooting up my arm.

As we worked side by side, I relaxed into the domesticity of it all. Ellery’s presence was steady and calming, a stark contrast to my usual frenetic energy.

“So,” I said, desperate to keep the conversation going, “how’d you learn to cook like this?”

Ellery shrugged, pouring the egg mixture into the pan. “Necessity, mostly. Can’t live on MREs forever, even in the Army. And when I became a smokejumper, well, you learn to make do with what you have.”

I frowned. “A smokejumper? What’s that?”

“Smokejumpers are special firefighters who parachute into a wildfire to battle it.”

My mouth dropped open. “Hold on. You parachuteintoa fire? Why?”

“Sometimes wildfires are in remote areas without road access, or it would take too long, giving the fire too much time to spread. So smokejumpers are dropped near the fire and do what they can to fight it back.”

---