Page 25 of A Not So Merry Ex-Mas

“You cleaned last night.”

“Didn’t you lecture me about how whoever doesn’t cook has to clean?” He raises his eyebrows, his eyes dancing.

I hold his eyes and stick out my hand. When he stares at me, a grin forms on his face and I push my hand closer. He chuckles, handing over the plate.

“Thank you.” I turn on the water and start rinsing the plates, then try to hand it over to him. He gives me a lopsided grin but doesn’t take it. “You can put everything in the dishwasher.”

“Oh, I can, can I?” His eyebrows shoot up, and his grin widens. “You have a lot of faith in me.”

Now, that’s a loaded statement that I choose to ignore. I push the plate toward him. He takes it and opens the dishwasher, which puts some distance and space between us.

We get into a groove of me rinsing and him organizing. The simple gesture helps to calm my nerves.

“Do you like being a firefighter?” I ask, trying to distract myself from how easy it is to be with him like this. “Or maybe a better question is, what’s it like to have Mike as your boss?”

He gives that deep chuckle that causes the hair on my arms and nape of my neck to stand on end. Mychest tightens, and I take a deep breath and release it slowly.

“Mike’s easy to work for. He’s a great leader, and no one knows more about the trade than he does.” He’s silent for a moment, but I get the impression that he’s trying to figure out how to say what he wants. “It was a good place to land after my professional career ended.”

His voice is a bit tight, but other than that, I don’t hear any bitterness or resentment about his early retirement from baseball.

“I can only imagine you were devastated when you got injured.” I softly respond, unsure why I thought this was a good topic. Maybe I just shouldn’t talk to Cole at all. That may be the only way to keep my emotions in check.

Being around him is proving dangerous to my emotional and mental state. He’s always had a way of breaking through my defenses.

I notice his hand in front of me, and I look up at him and pull my brows together.

“Are you done rinsing that yet?” He’s pressing his lips together to hold back the smile that wants to break free.

I look down at the plate under the water. “Oh yeah. Here you go.”

I reach toward the stove and grab two frying pans.

“I knew my career wasn’t going to last forever; I just expected it to last more than a few years,” he says, responding to my comment. “But being a fireman has its rewards.”

“So, how many cats have you rescued from trees?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, getting him to laugh at me.

“None, actually,” he says, humor dripping from his tone. Then he chuckles. “They all seem to run away from me.”

“What?!” I burst out laughing and hand him the last frying pan before turning off the water and drying my hands with the towel. “What do you mean they all run away from you?”

“They run away.’ He shrugs, closing the dishwasher door. Then, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “The first time it happened, we moved the ladder and I tried again, only to have the cat leap into a completely different tree. They called me down, and someone else went up. They didn’t have a problem.”

“You’re lying!” I swat the dish towel at him, laughing. The back and forth of his head has me giggling.

“I’m not, I swear!” He places a hand on his heart and grins. “But it wasn’t until the second time that it happened that I got my nickname.”

I watch a flush creep up his face, and a grin spreads across my face.

“They gave you a nickname?” I cover my mouth. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s notthatabnormal.” He shrugs as the flush gets deeper. “Everyone gets a nickname. It’s tradition.”

My heart quickens at his sheepishness. Cole, for all his confidence, was easy to embarrass if you struck the right cord. I lean against the sink and enjoy him squirming as he works to avoid looking at me.

“And yours is?” I push, but he shakes his head, and I chuckle.

I hear a buzz, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

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