Page 16 of Celebrating the Season

That had to be the craziest, most courageous thing I’d ever heard. “How did you get into that? You said you were in the Army?”

He nodded as he checked the frittata. “I was a paratrooper with the 82nd Airborne, so I had a lot of experience with the parachuting part. I became a firefighter after I left the Army and then heard about smokejumpers. It seemed to combine two passions of mine, so I applied, did the rigorous training, and got in.”

Wow. I didn’t even have words to express how badass that was. Made me feel like a total wimp since I couldn’t even change a tire. I suddenly understood those people who said competence was sexy. “But you’re no longer doing that?”

“No, I hurt my knee badly on my last jump when a gust of wind slammed me into a tree. I needed surgery to fix it, but even after recovery, my knee never fully healed, so I had to walk away. The good news is I was able to grow my beard.” He stroked it almost sensually with one hand. “Can’t have a beard as a firefighter, and I always wanted one, so here we are.”

“Definite benefit,” I said. “The beard is super sexy.”

He chuckled. “Thank you. What about you? Any hidden culinary talents?”

I snorted. “Unless you count burning water as a talent, nope. My roommates banned me from the kitchen after The Great Pasta Disaster of 2021.”

Ellery raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” I admitted. “It involved a fire extinguisher and a very angry neighbor.”

His laugh echoed through the kitchen, deep and genuine. The sound wrapped around me like a warm blanket, making me feel…safe. Cared for. It was a feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

As Ellery slid the frittata into the oven—to broil the cheese for a few minutes, he explained—I wished this moment could last forever. The simple act of cooking together, sharing space and laughter, felt more intimate than any hookup I’d had in years.

And as we sat down to eat, the first bite melting on my tongue, I realized how hungry I’d been—not just for food, but for connection. For someone who saw me, flaws and all, and still wanted to take care of me.

I looked up to find Ellery watching me, his blue eyes soft with an emotion I was afraid to name. “Good?”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah,” I said, meaning much more than the food. “It’s perfect.”

As we finished the last bites of frittata, a twinge of disappointment went through me. I didn’t want this moment to end, didn’t want to leave the warmth of Ellery’s cabin and go back to my cold, impersonal motel room.

“So, uh, should we clean up?” I asked, fidgeting with my fork.

Ellery nodded, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Seems fair. I’ll wash, you dry?”

“You don’t have a dishwasher?”

He shook his head.

“How quaint. I’m not even sure I know how to dry dishes by hand. That seems more like a Gen X thing,” I teased him.

“I’ll be happy to teach you, you little brat.”

But he was laughing as he said it, and inside me, happy fireworks popped and sparkled. “Deal.”

I jumped up from my chair with probably too much enthusiasm. But hey, ADHD brain, right? Always in motion.

As we stood side by side at the sink, it hit me how perfectly we fit together. Ellery’s solid presence beside me was grounding, calming the constant buzz in my head.

“You know,” I said, as usual, unable to keep quiet for long, “this is nice. I mean, not the dishes part, obviously. Who likes dishes? But the whole domestic thing. It’s nice.”

Ellery chuckled, handing me a plate to dry. “You’re good company, Boaz.”

My cheeks heated up at the compliment. “I am? I mean, most people find me annoying after a while. Too chatty, you know? Can’t sit still, always blurting out whatever pops into my head. It’s a lot to deal with.”

Ellery turned to me then, his eyes gentle and kind. “I like your chatter. It’s refreshing.”

My heart did a little flip in my chest. Before I could overthink it, I leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his bearded cheek. “Thanks,” I mumbled, immediately ducking my head to focus on drying a bowl.

We didn’t say much after that. Would Ellery send me back to my motel now? We’d pretty much both acknowledged that another fuck was off the table. I wasn’t a complainer, but I was too sore…and he was not exactly small.

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