Page 71 of Out of the Cold

She needed to get a grip before he came out.

Shaking her head at herself, she lit the candles on the table, then laid out bread along with some butter and olive oil. When she heard him get out of the shower, she spooned up soup for both of them and turned on the radio to fill in any awkward gaps in conversation.

A few minutes later he emerged in track pants and a flannel, his hair in thick wet curls against his head. “Whatever that is, it smells great.”

She turned her back to him, pretending to fuss with some dishes so she could collect herself. She took a couple of deep breaths, then joined him at the table.

He complimented her on the soup and on making her own bread.

“Len has all these gadgets and appliances. I thought I might as well use the fancy bread maker. What did you do today? After clearing a football field’s worth of snow, that is.”

He grimaced. “I had some year-end reports to work on.”

“That is so odd,” she said.

“What?”

“Hearing you say ‘year-end reports.’ You seem like the opposite of a business guy, and then you talk like that.”

“Well, itismy least favorite part of the job. It’s certainly not what drew me to starting my own business.”

“What did?”

He thought for a second. “I wanted to bring my love of the outdoors into my work life, and I liked the idea of being my own boss.” He tore some more bread and slathered butter on it.

“I guess I feel the same way, about being my own boss, anyway, but I didn’t intentionally plan my life around it. I graduated from the University of Florida with an English degree and sort of fell into editing for their press. I’ve been freelancing for them ever since, so that’s been a real lifesaver. It’s not going to make me rich, but I can do it and still have time to work on my own books.” She took a couple more bites, brooding over what she’d said. “God, that sounds so boring.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Oh please. You’d die of boredom if you lived my life.”

“Probably, but that’s because I can’t write beautiful books that change people’s lives.”

“My books don’t change people’s lives.”

“I heard that girl who told you she’d been too scared to tell her best friend that she was in love with her, but your book made her realize that love and happiness were worth taking risks for. So she did it, and now they’re dating.”

She could only stare at him. She’d never hoped for anything more than entertaining other people. But it was true. Colleen had told her that, and other girls had written to share similar things.

“I never thought of it that way,” was all she could manage.

His eyes were filled with tenderness, as if he knew how much it meant to her. “No, you wouldn’t.”

She blinked and looked down, grateful to him in a way she couldn’t express. Flustered, she stood and moved to take his empty bowl.

He was on his feet with both their bowls in hand before she could stop him. “You cooked, let me clean up,” he said, walking around the counter to set them in the sink.

“Leave it for the morning, when we can see better.”

“Okay, but I’ll get them in the morning.”

She laughed. “I’m not going to argue with you.”

Over the radio, Dusty Springfield started singing “Son of a Preacher Man.” She hummed along as she put the pot of soup in the fridge.

She closed the door and turned to find Gabriel standing inches away. A smiled curled the corners of his mouth.

He took her hand. “Dance with me?”

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