Chapter Twelve #2
Cole’s cheeks heated up again as he scrambled for a response.
Aspen looked to him, then to Granny Em, waiting a few beats before chiming in.
“Hi, Granny Em. My name is Aspen. Cole’s tongue apparently froze, so I guess I’ll have to answer for him.
” Aspen reached up, patted Cole on the shoulder, and smiled up at him, her touch giving him a playful little nudge to finally speak.
“Sorry, ladies. Seems my nose and tongue froze.” He tapped his nose and winked at Aspen.
“This is Aspen, one of my favorite snowboarders. I’d love to call her a friend, but we just met last night, and I don’t want to be too forward—or creep her out.
” He whispered the last part to Granny Em before continuing.
“We’ll have the broccoli cheddar bread bowl and the chicken noodle soup bread bowl, please.
” He leaned over the counter and whispered in Granny Em’s ear, “Can we also get a slice of your maple pecan pie? I want Aspen to try it.” He reached for his wallet to pay for the food, but Aspen’s hand shot out, stopping him before he could give Granny Em the money.
“You don’t have to pay for my food, Cole. Really,” she said, her hand resting on top of his, making his heart kick up a notch.
“I know I don’t have to, but I sure want to.” He handed Granny Em the money, his eyes never leaving Aspen’s as he paid for the food. She slowly removed her hand from his, her cheeks flushing pink once more.
“Thanks. That’s really nice of you.” Her eyebrows knit together, and her eyes drifted off into the distance as she mumbled, “Chase never paid for my food either. Not once.” She snapped out of her gaze and forced a smile as they waited for their food to be delivered to the counter.
Once it arrived, they found a small table by the windows, giving them a clear view of the snow-covered mountain. “Is this okay? Or would you rather be over by one of the fireplaces?” Cole set the tray down and waited for her answer.
“This is totally fine. What an awesome view.” They both sat down, and Cole waited for Aspen to choose her soup, but she just sat there, playing with her fingers, glancing from one soup to the other and then back at him.
“Well, whatcha waitin’ for? Go ahead and try them both.” He picked up a spoon and handed it to her.
She hesitated for a moment before taking the spoon, dipping it into the broccoli cheddar soup. One bite later, her eyes closed and a little noise of delight escaped her lips. “Oh my gosh, that is so good. You weren’t joking, were you?”
Cole smiled at her and motioned toward the other bowl. “Now you need to try the other one.” He handed her another spoon, and she took it, dipping into the chicken noodle soup. “Make sure you get some noodles—they’re the best part.”
Cole watched with anticipation as she brought the spoon to her mouth. Her eyes widened, then closed again, and little sounds of delight escaped her lips. “I told you it was good.”
“Cole, how am I supposed to choose now? They’re both delicious.” She looked from one bowl to the other, tapping the spoon against her lips.
“You don’t have to. We can share both, if you don’t mind,” he said—then realized that might sound a little weird, so he quickly added, “Unless you’d rather not, then I can just get two more.”
“Two more? Are you crazy? That’s WAY too much food. I’m totally fine with sharing. Thanks, Cole.” They both scooted closer and reached over with their spoons, quickly realizing that if they kept eating this way, more soup would end up on the table than in their mouths.
“One second.” Aspen stood and picked up her chair, moving it to his side of the small square table before sitting down again, adjusting the bread bowls so they were closer to both of them. “There, now we can reach them better.”
Cole smiled and picked up his spoon, their elbows brushing occasionally in the tight space, but they made it work. He hoped she didn’t mind being so close—on a table this small, their bodies were practically pressed together, and he certainly didn’t mind.
All too soon, the soup was gone, and Aspen and Cole were left nibbling on the bread.
“Did you know you make little noises when you eat?” Cole asked.
Aspen froze, a piece of bread halfway to her mouth. “Oh no! No, I didn’t. I’m usually so careful about that. I’m so sorry, Cole. It’s a horrible habit of mine.” She fidgeted with the napkin on the table until Cole reached over, gently stilling her hand before she could worry it into little pieces.
“Wait—what? Why would you be sorry about that? I happen to think it’s a cute habit,” Cole said.
Aspen’s eyes flew up to meet his, her face turning a few shades redder.
“Cute? Chase hated when I did that. He said it was disgusting and annoying.” Her gaze dropped to her lap, her shoulders following suit.
“Nope,” Cole said gently. “I think it’s adorable. It just means you really like something, that’s all.” He smiled, and her eyes lifted to meet his again as she returned it with a soft one of her own.
“Thanks, Cole,” she murmured just as Granny Em appeared at the table, carrying a slice of her famous maple pecan pie.
“Someone told me you needed to try my pie, so here’s a slice freshly made today.” Granny Em placed it on the table, and Aspen’s eyes went wide as she licked her lips, causing his heart to kick up a notch.
“Thanks, Granny Em,” Cole said as she shuffled away. “Oh—uh, you’re not allergic to pecans, are you? If so, that one’s mine, and I’ll get you something else.”
Aspen looked from the pie to Cole, her eyes suddenly misty. “Pecan pie was my mom’s favorite.” Her voice wavered, and she blinked quickly, staring at the slice in front of her.
Cole’s heart sank. He looked from Aspen to the pie. He’d messed up—but how could he have known? “I’ll go get something else. I’m sorry, Aspen.” He reached for the plate, but her hand caught his before he could move it.
“No. Wait. Don’t. It’s my favorite too—but I haven’t had it since… well, in a long time. Would you share it with me?” She reached for a fork with her hand, her other still gripping his on the table.
"I'd love to," he whispered, his gaze locked on hers as she took her first bite.
"It's my favorite as well." His heart warmed as delight washed over her face, those little noises he was beginning to adore slipping out again and again. Her hand stayed in his as they ate, and he didn’t mind. He’d let her hold on for as long as she needed—if it brought her comfort.
He thought about the piece of paper he’d written at home—a plan of sorts to help Aspen rediscover the Christmas spirit. But perhaps it was more than that. She needed to heal, too. Her heart had been hurt in more ways than one, and if he could help her, he would.