Page 35 of Stocking Stuffers
If you had a fancy pastry chef at home.
Valerie ladled her some chili, and Perry passed her a dish of fixings.
Sasha dug into her chili after crushing crackers on the top and garnishing it with sour cream and shredded cheese. The chili was meaty with a rich, hearty tomato sauce and an underlying bite of heat. The sour cream lent it a cool smoothness.
“Valerie, will you marry me? Shit, this is delicious,” Sasha said after downing half her bowl.
Everyone laughed, and Sasha caught Perry’s eye. He was grinning at her, which made her blush for some ungodly reason.
“Valerie eats microwave meals every night,” Louise said, a hint of teasing in her voice. “She says she doesn’t like to take work home with her.”
Valerie plopped down next to Louise and leaned her head on her shoulder playfully. “I just need a good woman to cook for.”
Louise bit her lip and a secret smile stretched over her face. Sasha couldn’t watch their awkward, tentative courtship. It made something in her chest flutter, like a bunch of calling birds finally finding their wings.
Sasha quickly finished her chili and got up to clean her bowl and plate. Perry followed her.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he rinsed their bowls in the kitchen sink.
“Yep.” She tried to sound casual, even though she really didn’t feelokayat all.
Christmas sucked.
Love and mushiness sucked.
She suddenly wished she was in her own bed and her own anti-Christmas apartment with a fierceness that nearly brought her to her knees.
“Valerie thawed a package of chestnuts she bought at the farmers market. Want to help me prepare them? We’re going to roast them in the fireplace once everyone is done with dinner.”
Of course.Chestnuts on an open fire. This place was a ridiculous fairy tale.
“Sure. What do you need me to do?”
“We need to wash and score the shells with an x.”
“Hand me a knife then.”
Perry smiled and kissed her gingerly, barely a brush of lips.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“No reason. I wanted to, is all.”
She shot him a silly, narrow-eyed glare. “You behave.”
“Aye, aye.”
They worked in companionable silence for several minutes, Perry rinsing the chestnuts and Sasha scoring them. Once they were washed, Perry picked up his own knife and they finished the job.
Perry dumped the chestnuts into a large chestnut roaster. It resembled a long-handled popcorn popper. Who actually owned a designated chestnut roaster?
A Christmas-themed inn, evidently.
She followed him into the hearth room, where most of the guests had gathered.
With gentle hands, Perry placed the roaster into the fire. Then he grabbed a deep-red afghan and a large cushion from a basket by the sofa. There were no empty seats.
“Here. Get comfy,” he said to Sasha, building her a nest close to the fire. “I’ll get us drinks. What would you like? Wine, beer, hot chocolate, apple cider, eggnog?”
