Page 70 of Tacos & Toboggans
“Baby doll, if you’d dressed for fashion, I’d be sending you right back inside to change.”
Baby doll. That had become his chosen term of endearment, and I didn’t hate it. There was something about the timbre of his voice when he whispered it in my ear before bed that did things to my heart that certainly made friends with benefits out of the question. I’d passed friends long ago and hurtled into uncharted territory.
“This is for you,” he whispered, holding out the cup.
“A Brown Bear Honey Pot?” I asked, jumping once when he nodded. “This is better than flowers.”
“Which I was going to bring, but something told me you’d rather have this now and flowers later.” He swiped a thumb under my eye. “You look tired.”
“Just what every woman wants to hear,” I joked, holding his gaze. He was always so earnest and open when we were together. It was scary and yet welcoming at the same time. Once he’d told me about his leg, his need to hide was gone, and he let me see all his pain and joy unapologetically.
“I’m sorry, but I’m worried about you. You barely got the arm healed before you were hit with the concussion. You also sleep like a toddler hopped up on Pixie Sticks.”
I snorted, glad I hadn’t taken a sip of the coffee yet. “The arm is good, and the concussion is a thing of the past. I’ve never been a great sleeper, but you’re helping,” I promised, accepting his kiss when he leaned in for a gentle buss. “When you hold me, everything settles, and I can shut my mind down long enough to fall asleep.”
“That makes me happy, I won’t lie, but maybe we need to address what has you thinking so much instead of sleeping.”
“Son, if we did that, we’d be here for days.” I took a sip of the latte. There was probably a moan involved, but he didn’t hold it against me as we walked to his SUV.
“We’ll take mine so we can strap the tree to the roof,” he explained, holding the door open.
“And a chauffeur? I won’t complain.”
His smile was wide when he closed the door and climbed into his seat. He had a coffee waiting as well, and the car wasalready toasty, which meant the drive to Evergreen Acres would be a warm cocoon of happiness.
“No calls last night?” I asked once we were underway. It was his last night on call for the week, but I’d slept in the cottage just in case he got called in. He always felt bad about waking me up if he had to leave in the middle of the night.
“It was quiet, which made me extra sad when I woke up this morning without you in my arms. But I’m well rested and ready to find a tree.”
“That’s good because I’m caffeinated and ready to find a tree,” I said, laughing when he gave me the side eye of all side eyes. My sigh was heavy because I knew him, and we were going to have this discussion whether I wanted to or not.
“I know people who could help you with the sleeping disorder.”
“It’s not a sleeping disorder,” I clarified. “It’s a life disorder, but I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
He nodded but tipped his head to the side, which meant he had a ‘but’ of his own. “I’ll agree to that since we’re on a date, but we will talk about it later.”
Rather than agree, I sipped my coffee as the scenery flew by. “I heard Alan is being discharged from rehab on Monday.”
“He’s a rock star,” Major agreed. “From what I hear, he’s always been a highly motivated individual. That seems obvious when married to Audrey Violet.”
If only I hadn’t been taking a drink of my latte when he said that. I blew coffee out of my nose in a rather unladylike way. “Thanks for that,” I said as he motioned at the napkins in the center console. I wiped myself up and leaned back in the chair. “Fair assessment, though.”
His smirk as he pulled into the farm said it all. “Wow, this place is hopping.”
“It always is on a Saturday during the holidays. Family day will be done shortly, so by the time we have a tree, the lot will be cleared out. Not to make this a working date, but I’d like to check on the kids and see how the cookies are selling. This was the first day of ourgalletas de árbol de Navidad.I’m curious to see how they sold.”
“Hmm,” he said, pulling into a spot and putting the car into park. “Navidad is Christmas, but I’m lost on the rest of it.”
“Christmas tree cookies,” I translated. “Tortilla ones to be exact.”
“That’s great,” he exclaimed, turning to me. “Wait. Did you spend all day at the bakery making cookies? That’s not great. You have enough work to do.”
“As a matter of fact, I taught the bakers how to make them, so I’m hands off.”
“We know they aren’t hard to make, considering you taught me in a matter of a few hours,” he agreed.
“And to think the bakers managed it in under fifteen minutes.” The straight-faced expression I wore had him laughing out loud.
