13. Chapter 13
“A re they down?” Nelie asked, rolling her head toward him as he walked down the stairs, avoiding the stack of library books.
One step was for the unread books and another for the ones ready to go back to the library.
It wasn’t the best place to store them, but it worked if Piper remembered which pile was which.
A few weeks ago, he’d returned one she hadn’t read, and all hell had broken loose.
“For the count,” he said, sitting next to her on the couch before she curled up and tossed a blanket over their laps.
“Thank you.” She leaned her head on his shoulder.
“For?” he asked, leaning his head against hers. She smelled like flowers, not fries, but he’d survive as long as she didn’t leave his side.
“This was a great day.”
“You say that now. Wait until tomorrow. I haven’t been sledding like that for years. I won’t be able to move in the morning.” He turned his head toward her. Nelie looked comfortable and content, like she belonged.
“Don’t worry, old man, the girls will get you going,” she teased. Chet wished it was Nelie who’d get him going in the morning. Patience . He didn’t want to spook Nelie by moving too fast, and he wanted to make sure the girls were comfortable with her and with adding her to their family.
During their first round of dating, he’d made it clear to her he wanted no more children, and he’d had a vasectomy.
But it hadn’t fazed her. Nelie had told him her life kept her plenty busy, and she didn’t know how she could fit kids into it.
But she was. She still had the girls two afternoons a week and today she’d made time to have fun with them as a family.
“How’s the new fryer?” he asked, knowing that last night was its maiden voyage.
“Hot and sizzling, but I’d rather talk about you.” His eyebrows rose, and the room felt warmer.
“Me? You think I’m hot and sizzling?” Chet asked, as if he were a coy heroine in a regency romance.
Nelie swatted at him playfully, laughing. “Yes, but I meant the paper.” Chet’s ego deflated at her amused tone. “I finished it this morning. It was a good edition.”
“What made it good?” he asked. They often talked about the Galley, but never about the Haven Times . He wondered if they avoided talking about his work since his work broke them apart back in the fall.
“The Photos section was fun, and I liked the profile of the high school girl who won the regional science contest. I don’t understand chemistry, but I liked the article.
And I particularly liked that you didn’t mention my grease fire.
” She stretched toward him like she was going to kiss him, but he leaned back, disappointed.
Chemistry isn’t the only thing she doesn’t understand .
He breathed slowly through his nose—counting to ten—wondering how to make her understand.
“A grease fire in a commercial kitchen isn’t news, Nelie. I’m sure it’s fairly common. Now, if HFD had been called, that would have been news.”
“Because it would have impacted others?” she asked, biting her lip.
“Exactly.”
“I think I’m starting to understand where you draw the line.”
“Good.” He dropped a kiss on her lips, a reward for them both. She was trying to understand, and he hadn’t lost his cool. Nelie brushed her fingers through the short hair at his nape as he pulled her closer. Finally .
“Dad?” Piper called down the stairs. He dropped his head to his chest and groaned. Nelie chuckled. “Ava needs a glass of water.”
“Duty calls.” He patted Nelie’s knee. Every muscle protested as he stood and made his way to the kitchen.
He poured two glasses of water. One for Ava and the other to chase down two pain relievers.
“Remote is on the table. Cue something up for us to watch,” he said to Nelie as he started up the stairs.
If she was busy finding a movie, she wouldn’t see him wince with every step.
He stepped into the girls’ room—he hadn’t finished Ava’s room, so they were still sharing—and heard Ava’s gentle snoring.
“I thought she was thirsty?” he whispered, setting the glass on the nightstand.
Piper shrugged. Chet gently pressed her shoulder, saying, “Lie down and go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. ”
“Will Nelie be here?” she asked, looking excited.
“You’ll need to go to sleep to find out.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and walked to the door.
“Dad?” Piper called. Chet stopped and took another deep breath. At the rate he was going, he’d have the best lung capacity in Haven, thanks to the women in his life.
“Yes?”
“I really, really like Nelie. And I hope she’s here for pancakes in the morning and forever,” Piper said, rolling to her side and tucking her hands under head, her go-to sleeping position since she was a toddler.
Me, too , he thought.
It was premature and wishful, but that’s what he wanted.
Nelie was warm and loving with the girls, and they blossomed when they were with her.
She was like sunshine, helping them grow.
He hoped Nelie could put them first, before work or friends, unlike Heather, who always put her career first. With Heather, they’d tread water, surviving.
But with Nelie, they thrived. Chet’s heart wasn’t the only one on the line.
If Nelie bolted again, they’d all be devastated.
“Goodnight, honey,” he said, closing the door behind him, but leaving it open a crack so he didn’t trap the boogeyman in there.
He walked down the stairs, again. The record was four trips before Piper settled and so help him if she broke the record tonight, he’d crack open the bottle of scotch tucked away on a tall shelf for celebrations or emergencies.
The television was off, but Nelie had uncurled herself and put her feet on the coffee table. She patted the spot next to her. “Saved you a seat.” He dropped, and she leaned into him. “What’s next?”
Chet pulled the blanket across them, worried she’d forgotten what they’d started before his youngest had cock-blocked him. “Anything you want. The world is your oyster.”
“I don’t like oysters, and I’ve never understood that phrase,” Nelie said, turning to look at him. He wondered if she was nervous now that their chaperones had gone to bed.
“ The world is your oyster is an expression that means you can do anything or go anywhere you want because you can. It reminds people they have choices and can lead their lives in the way they desire.” He twirled her bright blond ponytail around his finger and gave a little tug, so she’d look at him.
“What would you like most right now, Nelie?”
“A kiss,” she breathed, surprising him, and he happily complied. Nelie looked dazed when they broke apart, and Chet’s breathing was heavy.
“More kisses later, I promise, but right now, your oyster is Netflix.” Chet inched away, but kept her in his arms. He was acting like a horny teen, and he needed to get himself under control. “What do you want to watch?” Chet woke up his screen and Nelie gasped.
“Your watch list is filled with rom coms, not documentaries.” She looked at him with sparkling eyes. Chet was embarrassed by how proud he felt, making her this happy. If the lights were brighter, she’d see his flushed face.
He cleared his throat. “I thought you’d prefer that, and I saved some ideas,” he said, trying to sound like it was no big deal.
Nelie scrolled through the list twice and settled on The Proposal , an old Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds movie. It was cute, but not cute enough to keep her awake.
He shifted, trying to get more comfortable and shake off his disappointment.
He’d wanted more kisses. She curled into him and sighed.
Chet shoved a pillow behind his head. He wasn’t getting any more kisses, but right now she was using him as her pillow, looking more relaxed than he’d ever seen her.
Who knew Nelie Peterson had an off switch?
She was warm and soft, and he was screwed.
He’d deluded himself into thinking his attraction to her was mostly as a companion.
He tossed the blanket off him. Nelie made him feel and want.
His nighttime companion was memories of her in the blue, sparkly auction dress.
How he’d managed not to embarrass himself that night was a miracle.
She’d woken something up in him, and he’d be damned if it went to sleep again.
He felt ten years younger when she was around.
He was happier and everything was better.
Chet wrapped his arms around her and glanced at the clock.
It was late. He should wake her and take her home.
But he didn’t want to break this moment.
Nelie snuggled into him while the early February snow fell outside the window.
Heavy snow. Too heavy to drive in. Chet held Nelie as he stretched out on the couch.
Safer to stay here. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it , he thought as he shut his eyes, praying this wasn’t a colossal mistake—for him and the girls—and that there’d be plenty of snow in the morning to corroborate his story.
C het stomped his feet outside the Galley’s front door before pulling it open.
They’d had daily flurries for over a week, but today it had snowed steadily with thick clouds blocking the sun.
That was the problem with winter in Minnesota.
The only warm days were the overcast ones.
Seeing the sun meant risking frost bite.
He nodded at Eric and the young woman at the hostess stand.
“They’re upstairs,” Eric said.
“You want me to shovel a bit since I still have my coat on? Chet asked.
“Nah, we got people for that. And by people, I mean the busboy who showed up late.” Eric smirked.