Page 13 of All I Want for Christmas Eve

Chapter Five

Sighing, I close my laptop. I’ve spent several hours working, with only a few breaks to take a shower and grab a few snacks. Every time I left my home office, I saw Adam sitting in my green armchair and reading one of my books. He must be a speedy reader, because he has managed to get through two whole books in the space of a day. And they aren’t small books.

Maybe he’s just skimming. I can’t imagine a guy finding my work very interesting. Yet every time I manage to glance at him, he seems very interested in the content of my novels, and he has even made some insightful comments about the characters. I find myself yearning to hear more of his feedback. I don’t know many people in real life who have read my stories. Usually it’s just far-flung strangers over the internet. But seeing someone sitting there and actually reading my work, and getting to witness their real-time facial expressions—it’s rather special.

I have heard him moving around in the main area of the house for the past hour now, and I’m kind of curious what he’s been up to. Standing up and stretching, I absentmindedly rub my shoulders, which have started to ache again.

It’s crazy how simply typing all day can wreak havoc on your body. I feel like I’d get less pain from weightlifting, gymnastics, bricklaying, or some kind of actually intense physical activity. When I get home to Michigan, other than taking my dad to the doctor, the very next appointment I’m booking will be some kind of physiotherapy or chiropractic treatment.

Sighing as I move my head from side to side to try to stretch out the stuff muscles, I open the door of my office. My nostrils are instantly assailed with a delicious smell. Then my eyes take in the fact that the whole central area of my cabin has been…decorated.

There is a Christmas tree in the corner of the room, covered in tinsel and silver balls. There are garlands and streamers and wreaths everywhere. And on the small table, which has been covered with a red velvety tablecloth, there is a small feast laid out by candlelight. And a decanted bottle of wine.

“Where did you find all this?” I ask Adam in amazement.

“There was a break in the storm, and I was able to run out to Santa’s Sleigh,” he explains. “Well—not run. Hobble. But I got it done.”

“That could have been dangerous,” I tell him with my disapproving-mom voice. “You could have gotten really hurt.”

“Can you stop stressing out for five minutes, Eve, and just join me for dinner? I’m officially inviting you out on a date. Well—I’m inviting youinon a date. If you would like that.”

“Do I have any choice?” I ask him, gesturing around us with both hands. “I live here, and this is where I need to eat.”

“Come on, don’t be grumpy like that,” he says. “You saved my life, and gave me tons of awesome reading material, and I would like to share some good wine, good food, and good conversation with you. What do you say? I even put my shirt back on for this!”

I smile, softened up by the amount of effort he’s put into the decorations and meal. “Fine. Let me get dressed. If it’s a proper date, then I should at least look the part.”

“Your nightgown is just fine,” he tells me. “I think you look ravishing just as you are. Plus, we don’t want the food to get cold.”

“No, Adam. It’s not proper that I am just wearing this, while you’re wearing a full suit. I feel like I’m at some kind of a disadvantage.”

“You don’t need to put on armor, Eve. We’re not going to battle—it’s just a date.”

“What’s the difference?” I ask him teasingly. “Just give me five minutes.” I turn and head for the bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I stare at my dresser drawers, trying to think of what to wear. I don’t want to take too long, but I feel like I could also benefit from a touch of makeup and a splash of lipstick.

“Hmmm,” I say, crossing my arms and tapping my foot thoughtfully as I make a plan.

“Hey, Eve,” Adam calls out from behind the door. “Want to hear a joke?”

“No, not really!” I respond.

He ignores this. “You know how after Adam and Eve bit the apple, they felt shame and needed to put on clothing?”

“I thought they covered their bodies with fig leaves,” I call back.

“Well, Adam did. But Eve had to try on a maple leaf, a sycamore leaf, an oak leaf, a holly leaf, an elm leaf, a birch leaf, a poplar leaf…”

“Ha ha,” I say with annoyance, but there’s a smile on my face. “I’ll be fast, I promise!”

With a final glance in my mirror, and a final swipe of mascara, I move to exit my room confidently. I haven’t been on a real date, a fake date, or any sort of date in as long as I can remember. I am more excited than I care to admit.

When I open the door, Adam’s face lights up at the sight of me.

“Holy Santa’s milk and cookies!” he exclaims with a grin. “You clean up good, Eve.”

“You decorated my house, so I decorated myself,” I explain, with a playful twirl and curtsy in my festive red dress.

“I really wish I could take you for a night out on the town,” he says, moving to the window and drawing the curtain. “But unfortunately, it looks like we’ll be snowed in for a good while.”

“This is fine, Adam. It looks really lovely. Thanks for doing this,” I say, moving to the table. He races me there and pulls out my chair, and I laugh softly before sitting down.

“So, what’s for dinner?” I ask.

He lifts the aluminum foil lids off some of the dishes, revealing all sorts of amazing looking food.

“Shrimp puttanesca,” he explains, gesturing to a pasta dish. He lifts another lid. “Seared, almond-crusted salmon, with a side of strawberry, goat cheese, and walnut salad.”

I can only stare. “You did this all from ingredients I had in the fridge?”

“Well, the seafood was at the back of your freezer,” he explains. “And some of it was in your pantry.”

“Adam, this looks… wow. This looks incredible,” I say, at a loss for words. I have an urge to reach for my camera and take a photograph, but the food smells so good that my mouth is watering and I don’t have the patience. I just want to dive in.

“It doesn’t look half as good as you look in that dress,” he responds, as he takes some of the pasta out of the dish and places it on my plate.

“This is the nicest romantic dinner by candlelight I have ever had in the middle of a blizzard at the edge of humanity,” I tell him seriously as he serves me.

“Me too,” he responds with a grin. “I haven’t met many interesting, independent, and impressive women like you out here. Or anywhere. So, I really wanted to try.”

“You tried and succeeded,” I say as I take a piece of the salmon and place it in my mouth. Almond-crusted fish? Seriously? “Mmmmm. Adam, are you sure you’re not a chef?”

“I can neither confirm or deny whether I am a chef,” he responds cryptically.

I roll my eyes at this response. I know I had almonds somewhere in my pantry, but I never would have considered crushing them and putting them on fish. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I mostly live on frozen dinners,” I confess. “There are even more in a freezer in the garage.”

“I saw that,” Adam says with a chuckle. “I wanted to give you a taste of what it’s like to not live a bachelorette lifestyle. I could get used to more of these romantic dinners by candlelight with you, Eve.”

He extends his hand across the table, and I stare at it for a moment. Maybe it’s the candles. Maybe it’s the light reflecting off the tinsel and balls on the Christmas tree. Everything is warm and glittering and it reminds me of home in Snowflake Creek. This cabin has never once felt like home in the years I’ve lived here. Maybe it’s the gorgeous snow blowing madly around outside the window. Maybe it’s the way that Adam’s eyes look so sincere and handsome in the candlelight. But I do it, I take his hand.

He gently squeezes my palm, smiling at me.

His face is so perfect. I could definitely spend many, many evenings sitting across a table from this man, making jokes and chatting over delicious food. I almost don’t care what he does—chef, masseuse, or stripper. I just like having him here with me, in my home. It’s really cozy. It all plays through my mind like a film reel. For the first time, I imagine a future with him. I actually imagine it, and don’t just brush it off as a joke. It’s funny how small domestic things like a man putting up a Christmas tree and some decorations, and cooking dinner, can make you start thinking you’d like to have him around the house more.

Like maybe those Adam and Eve wedding invitations are actually a great idea.

Wait a second. What is this? What is this insanity?

I feel like I’m under some kind of magical spell. This has got to be a trick. He’s a sorcerer or a wizard, casting some kind of spell on me, and tricking me into thinking he’s a perfectly nice and normal guy. What normal guy can cook like this, decorate like this, and give massages the way he does, while looking like that?

Then it occurs to me.

I pull my hand away from his.

“Dammit,” I say with disappointment. “You’re definitely married.”

“Married?” he asks with a burst of laughter. He puts down the wine he was sipping on. “What makes you say that?”

“All of this,” I say, gesturing to the meal and the wine and the decorations. “You are way too charming, and I bet these are skills you gained from being married, and learning how to romance your wife. Normal single guys don’t have skills like this.”

“Well, maybe I’m not a normal single guy,” Adam responds. “Or maybe I just have a mother and sisters I liked to cook for. Did you ever consider that?”

“I did not consider that. Because men don’t need to romance their sisters with wine and candlelight. This—” I gesture all around us. “These are moves. You are putting the moves on me, Adam Wintergreen, if that’s even your name.”

His eyes are twinkling with mirth now, as he sips his wine. “That is my name, and I am definitely putting the moves on you, Eve. Are they working?”

“Maybe,” I say, grumbling in annoyance at myself.

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