23
Hot Shower and Warm Cookies
A lex came through the door looking like he’d just dug himself out of an avalanche.
“Jeepers!” Quinn quipped taking in the sight of him. “How’d the shovelling go?”
He looked up at her as if she were nuts to even ask. “An asinine task in this.” He nodded towards the window where the snow was drifting up on the sill.
Guess we won’t be going anywhere today then , she thought.
“I was getting a little worried. You were gone for a long time. I thought you might have shovelled your way to the town,” she teased.
He looked at her under his brow. “I huv a shed in the back with some workout equipment. I chopped some wood, then did a wee workout. We willnae run out of wood again.”
Quinn felt a pang of disappointment. Did that mean she wouldn’t need to cuddle up in his bed? Then she reminded herself of the photo. She bit her lip. “Oh right, good.” She was quiet before she added, “I’d like to see your shed. I've always thought I should learn to lift weights and go to the gym, but then I end up doing yoga instead. I love yoga." When he just looked at her blankly she added, "Maybe you can train me in your shed. You know, to defend myself and all that."
She had a hunch he didn’t like the idea, but she wasn’t about to let him forget their deal. She’d always intended to learn self-defence, but it was one of those things that she never seemed to get around to.
“Aye,” he said casually, and she could guess he’d forgotten their middle-of-the-night agreement or maybe hoped she’d forgotten. Grabbing an apple from a fruit bowl on the kitchen table, he strode to the bathroom not giving her a second glance.
Quinn watched after him feeling slightly disappointed by their interaction. She hoped they could at least be friends. She wished he didn’t seem so on guard with her. That and she had been feeling excited to have him come back to show him what she’d been up to while he was out.
Alex pulled open the curtain on the shower, and his mouth went dry at the site before him. A red lace bra and matching thong hung off the shower head. What kind of girl goes hiking in that? Shouldn’t she have some kind of sports bra? And why on earth were they hanging in his shower?
He stared for a moment, unable to deter his thoughts from what she’d look like in the ensemble, and then it dawned on him. She was in his kitchen, in his clothes, with nothing underneath them. His cock thickened. Damn her all to hell.
Tentatively, he reached up and touched the offending thong. It was damp. Of course. It appeared she had washed her underclothes and had hung them to dry. It shouldn’t get to him, but it did. Seeing her red lacy bra and thong had him imagining what it would be like to plunge his cock into her, to feel every part of her luscious curves, to hear her whimper as he drove into her. Heat coiled around him. Swallowing hard, he carefully removed her skimpy underwear from the shower head and put it on the vanity.
Stepping into the shower, he let the hot water hit him and grabbed his rock-hard cock, needing to find some relief. He wasn’t going to think about her. All he needed was a quick release. He braced himself, putting one hand up on the tiled shower wall as he let the other pump him.
Immediately, his thoughts turned to the way her arse felt snug against him last night. He growled. Stop .
And her full breasts as she pressed into him at the kitchen sink. Don’t.
Her tight nipples beaded through her sweater when he pulled her over. Christ .
His body spasmed in sweet release, and the second he could breathe again, guilt rolled over him. God, he shouldn’t have noticed her body while he was on duty. And he certainly shouldn’t be fantasizing about it while he… Jesus. Enough. He’d found his release. Now he could calm the fuck down around her. Letting the water spray over him, he cleared his mind and then washed up as he thankfully began to feel more at ease.
Alex strode into the kitchen and Quinn thought she was ready for him this time, but she was thrown off guard by how damn good he looked all clean-shaven with his dark hair still damp from his shower. He looked at her from under his dark brow, and it made her knees go weak.
Tearing her gaze away, she focused on pouring a fresh mug of coffee that she’d made. Before her grandmother had passed she always told Quinn, kill ‘em with kindness . That was her plan. If they were going to be stuck here together during Christmas, she was going to make sure it was pleasant at the very least.
“Coffee?” she asked, and without waiting for him to answer, she handed him the steamy mug.
“Thank ye,” he said taking it. Alex seemed refreshed after his shower and much more amiable. Taking a sip, he looked down at the coffee in his emerald green mug and took a second sip as if testing it. A subtle smile touched his lips. It was his coffee, so it shouldn’t taste different. But maybe having someone else make it for him made it better? Quinn didn’t know, but either way, it was nice to see an agreeable expression on his too-handsome face.
“Good?” she hedged.
“Aye, for someone who doesn’t like coffee, ye make it well enough.”
She smirked, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I used to make it for my Grandmother, and she was very particular about the water-to-grounds ratio.”
“Canny woman," he said savouring another sip. Then his blue eyes squinted suspiciously as he scanned the kitchen like it was a crime scene. "Smells good in here." He concluded.
Ahh, finally he notices , Quinn smiled inwardly. “I made shortbread cookies,” she said over her shoulder as she pulled a batch out of the oven. “I was going to make sugar cookies, but I saw you had icing sugar, so I decided to do whipped shortbread instead. Plus, you didn’t have cookie cutters or a rolling pin, so sugar cookies were pretty much nixed as an option.”
Alex looked over at the fresh cookies sitting on a cooling rack and his stormy blue eyes widened with interest. It pleased her more than it should.
“Help yourself,” she said, sweetly noticing he’d already moved and was hunched over the rack inspecting which cookie to snatch up and try.
Taking one from the cooling rack, Alex examined it briefly and then popped it into his mouth. Quinn watched him with a tentative look on her face as she awaited his verdict.
“Mmm,” he groaned and then grabbed another. “They huv a familiar sweet buttery taste, ach God, and they just melt in your mouth.” He took a sip of his coffee after making short work of a second cookie. “They remind me of the ones my Nan used to make.”
That felt like high praise coming from Sergeant Mackenzie. Perhaps her Grandmother was right. Kindness was the key—or maybe it was baked goods.
“Here try this one.” She held the cooling rack to him with the final batch. A little thrill ran through her that he actually liked her cookies.
He eyed her curiously as he took one and popped it whole into his mouth. His stormy blue eyes rolled back in pleasure. “Och, what is that? I recognize that taste. Mmm. God lass, ye could make a fortune if ye sold these.”
She grinned delighted by his praise. “Thank you.” She hoped he’d like them, but she didn’t expect such compliments from Sergeant Mackenzie. “I added a splash of your scotch to this batch.”
“Ye put my single malt scotch in yer cookies?” His eyes narrowed.
Oh shit. Was he angry? “I-I—” She didn’t know what to say.
“It’s fine, lass,” he said, reassuring her as if sensing her unease. “But I thought ye dinnae like my whisky.” His dark brow raised in a challenge as his blue eyes bore into her with a knowing twinkle in them.
God, he could make a nun stray with that look. She grinned, relieved he wasn’t angry. “I don’t like your whisky,” she said, pointedly scrunching her face up, “but cookies make everything taste better. And I don’t know… Somehow scotch and shortbread seemed like a good mix.” She shrugged.
His deep chuckle disarmed her. God, she’d almost forgotten how shockingly hot he was when he smiled.
He bit into a second scotch shortbread cookie. “Mmm, I honestly cannae believe you wasted single malt whisky in a bloody biscuit, but damn, they’re good lass.”
It was a backhanded compliment, but she’d take it. She was pleased that he was enjoying them. She giggled. “Glad you approve, Sergeant Mackenzie.”
He threw her an arched brow. “Are ye a baker then?” he asked between bites.
“Oh heck no.” She snorted. “But I do enjoy a little Christmas baking.”
“Maybe not such a bad thing having ye stranded here wi’ me after all,” he remarked.
“I can earn my keep with baking.” She smiled, glad to have an easy light interaction with him.
“Aye, ye can.” Alex leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. “So what is it ye do Ms. West, if ye’re not a baker?”
“I’m a writer.” She smiled, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“What do ye write?” He watched her intently as she moved cookies from a baking tray to a cooling rack. Then he snatched a warm cookie from behind her, making her feel a fluff of pride flutter in her chest that he liked them so much. She’d never had someone to bake for before, except for herself.
“I write lifestyle articles for a couple of magazines and online publications. It pays the bills, and, for the most part, I enjoy the writing,” she said. “But it’s not really where my passion lies.”
“Oh?” he said curiously.
It was the first time he seemed interested in something about her, but still, she was hesitant to tell him—nervous to share something that meant so much to her. Writing a novel was her dream, and it was still early in the process. She didn’t want him to judge her.
His stormy piercing blue eyes were looking at her expectantly.
She bit her lip as she contemplated whether or not to open up about her novel.
“Where does your passion lie?” His voice seemed to have dropped an octave.
Her heart fluttered at the heat in his gaze. She quickly turned away, trying to tamp down the tingles that pricked her senses. Plunging her hands in the hot soapy water, she began to wash the dirty dishes from her baking. “Um, I’m working on a novel right now,” she said tentatively and then threw caution to the wind. “Writing stories with characters and a plot, that’s what truly sings to my soul.” She sighed dreamily, not daring to look back at him.
“What’s it about, your novel?” It surprised her to find he sounded genuinely interested.
She glanced at him shyly, wondering whether or not to tell him. She hadn’t even told her girls what it was about. Why would she tell Mean Hot Cop? Husband Cop? Dad Cop? Her mind went back to the photo of him with his wife and kids. Why did he want to know about her novel? Why did he care? What about his secrets?
His blue eyes seemed to be studying her. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to tell him about her writing. Maybe it was that they were stranded together all alone. Maybe it was because if she shared her secrets, perhaps he’d share his. Or maybe it was just the way he was watching her, so intently, like he actually cared.
Continuing to absently scrub the dishes, she said, “It’s a mystery novel that takes place in Budapest.” She felt a little thrill saying it out loud. She hadn’t told anyone about it yet.
“Hmm, I’m intrigued already. Budapest is one of my favourite cities.”
She felt a nervous tension she hadn't even realized she’d been holding, begin to melt away and she eyed him over her shoulder. “You’ve been?”
“Aye, many years ago now,” he said, and for a moment there was a distance in his eyes, almost a sadness. He moved alongside her, picked up a dishcloth, and began drying the dishes she’d washed.
Quinn wondered if Alex had been to Budapest with his wife. A honeymoon perhaps. That was a sobering thought.
“I’d love to go. I’ve researched it for my book. The history is fascinating and the architecture,” she paused sighing, seeing it in her mind’s eye. “One day, I’ll walk the Danube and take it all in.”
Alex smiled. “’Tis an intriguing city. I can imagine it to be the perfect choice for the backdrop of a mystery novel.”
Quinn was pleased Alex saw it that way too.
“Have ye been to Scotland, lass?”
“No, unfortunately, I haven’t done much travelling outside of Canada. I will. though. I love learning about different cultures and seeing new places.”
“Aye, well, ye should add Scotland to yer list then. ’Tis a different kind of history and architecture. I suspect ye’d be fascinated with all the ruins with their stories and legends.”
She could hear the pride in his voice. “Sounds dreamy.” She sighed.
He chuckled lightly. “Aye, and ‘tis ruggedly beautiful much like Canada.”
Quinn tried to imagine what it would be like to go to Scotland and then found herself wondering if muscular gorgeousness was a common trait in Scottish men. She snuck a look at him as he stood drying the mixing bowl she’d used. The domestic side certainly added to his hotness.
“I’d like to read your book when it’s done if ye’d allow me,” Alex said, pulling Quinn from her thoughts.
A flattered smile tugged her lips. “Well, you may have to wait a while. I had hoped to be working on it over the holidays, but instead, I’m here—baking cookies.”
“Ah right, I see.” The compassion in his tone surprised her. “Mother nature is unleashing some kind of winter fury.” He looked out the window kitchen window as the snow continued to blow about.
“It’s all good.” She said absently handing him a cookie sheet to dry. “I’m grateful to be in a warm cozy cabin. There are worse things.”
“Aye, ‘tis true.”
“I am gonna hold you to teaching me some self-defence though while I’m stuck here. It’s something I’ve always wanted to learn but never seemed to get around to.”
“It’s an important skill to have. Perhaps tomorrow then.”
“Perfect.” She felt lighter, liking that they’d reached a new level in their relationship. Friendship. Whatever it was.
“Right, I’m going to go grab some more logs so we dinnae run out tonight,” Alex announced, walking to the back door and putting his coat and boots back on. “We dinnae need ye frozen like an ice cube and crawling into my bed again.”
“I did not crawl into your bed!” Quinn snapped, instantly irritated at his implication. “I had no intention of getting into your bed. If you recall, you were the one who insisted I get in,” she said haughtily.
Alex looked at her with a tired expression. “I was only teasing ye, lass.”
“Oh,” she muttered, regretting that she’d been the one to get snappy this time. She turned away from him to start transferring her cookies from the cooling rack to a platter she’d found. “I’m just about all washed up here, I can come and help you,” she offered, trying to make peace.
“It’s okay. I willnae be long.” And with that, the door slammed behind him.