Chapter 6 Gretchen
GRETCHEN
I press down on the folded paper, then line the scissors up, letting the Christmas muse guide the pattern I create. My eyes dart to the clock, checking the time again. A few more minutes before eight o'clock. And what will I do if they aren't here on time?
The sound of a car door shutting outside sends relief swirling through me. Gavin's footsteps are obvious, and I can easily envision the way he's racing up the sidewalk to the small porch. Right on time, Gavin opens the door and runs inside.
“I made it.” He grins at me, waving. “Eight o'clock, on the dot.”
He does a wiggly little dance and then gives me two thumbs up.
I laugh at the sight. “Yes, you did. Just like you promised. Seems like you had fun.”
“We did. But we worked so hard, we had to eat. Don't worry, though, we brought you food this time.”
My eyes dart to the open door, where Cooke's tall form is standing on the porch. A pizza box is held in front of him, and it strikes me this is like his form of an olive branch.
“So he's tricked you into feeding him two nights in a row?” I ask, standing up from the chair. My back aches and I stretch my arms up over head, relishing the feel of my vertebrae popping back into alignment. “He's crafty, this one. Don't let him fool you. I feed him every day.”
A flash of teeth, there and gone so fast I'm not sure if it was a real smile or imagined, and then Cooke holds the box out to Gavin. “You should heat this up for your sister. Make sure it's warm.”
“Good idea,” says my brother. “She doesn't like cold pizza.”
He takes the box, and then rushes over to me, giving me a quick one-armed hug before heading into the kitchen. Cooke still waits on the porch so I cross over to the open door.
“Thank you for getting him home on time.” I look back over my shoulder, to where I can hear Gavin pushing buttons. “And for getting him pizza. You've made him pretty happy.”
When I look back at the man on my porch, his eyes have a faraway look before they land on me.
There's something bleak in that look and then it's gone.
Now, though, his intense focus is all directed at me, and I'm instantly aware of the sloppy bun my hair is in and the old sweatshirt I pulled on when I got home from work.
It's a comfy, cozy look made for a night at home.
Not for being seen by a man I don't even really know.
“He was pretty intent on making sure we brought home something you would love.”
His words, said in the low, growly voice that makes my stomach flip, are measured and careful, but seem to linger over that last word.
Love.
Then he surprises me with a quirk of his lips that's almost a smile. “Who could've guessed you'd be the type of person to put pineapple on pizza.”
“It's the best. Unless you're a heathen, of course.” The atmosphere in the room feels instantly lighter with the teasing tone we've both adopted. “You should try a slice.”
Gavin comes in, his coat hanging from his fingers. “I put your pizza in the oven to warm back up. Can we still make the snowflakes tonight?”
“Of course we can.”
Seeing his face light up makes my heart lift. It had seemed like a childish thing to suggest, that we make decorations together, but he had acted like he was willing. In this moment, though, he looks almost excited. He darts a glance over my shoulder, to where Cooke is still standing.
“Do you want to make snowflakes with us?” I ask.
I'm sure he'll decline the invite, claim he's too busy or has more important things to do. But he surprises me again.
“Actually, I think that would be a lot of fun.”
“Yay!” Gavin runs down the hall to his room, and I hear his door open, and the unmistakable sound of his coat sliding across his bed.
It's only a few seconds that we're alone, but when I shoot him a questioning look, Cooke raises a brow at me. “You promised me a slice of pizza. I wasn't about to decline that. The snowflake making just sweetened the deal.”
“You must be a terrible negotiator. A slice of pizza and snowflakes— that's all it takes?”
Gavin interrupted. “Smart business means learning what matters to the other person. Then you help them get it so it's a win for everyone.”
Cooke chuckled. “I guess someone was listening. Now let's have that pizza. Agreed?”