Chapter Five
Belle
By the time six-thirty rolled around, I’d changed my shirt twice and vacuumed the living room, even though it didn’t really matter because there was always Salt and Pepper hair everywhere. It was the way of the Australian Shepherd.
Salt followed me from room to room like a supervisor, head tilted, eyes calm and assessing. Pepper, on the other hand, took my nervous energy as an invitation to ricochet off furniture like a pinball.
“Okay,” I told them both and stopped in the middle of the kitchen. “Everyone needs to settle down.”
Salt sat.
Pepper wiggled his butt harder.
I sighed and checked the clock again. Six thirty-three.
I hadn’t expected Saint to say yes so easily. Or to pivot from drinks to dinner without missing a beat. Most men would’ve shrugged, said another time, and meant it. Saint had simply adjusted, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The thought made my chest feel… warm.
A knock sounded at the door right at six thirty-five.
Five minutes late, but I really couldn’t hold it against him since he didn’t have much time to figure out dinner. I was going to be thankful for anything edible and not gingerbread.
Pepper barked like we were under attack. Salt rose smoothly to his feet, his nub slightly wiggling as he headed toward the door.
“Okay, okay,” I muttered and pulled the door open.
Saint stood on my porch with two paper bags in his hands and that steady, unhurried presence that seemed to fill space without demanding it. He wore a dark Henley and jeans tonight with his leather cut. My god, the man was a damn smoke show.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I replied, suddenly very aware of my socked feet and the faint smell of gingerbread that lived permanently on me this time of year.
Pepper launched himself forward, nose-first.
Saint laughed and shifted the bags to one hand so he could crouch to greet Pepper with a firm scratch down the chest that earned immediate devotion.
“Good to see you too,” he said.
Salt approached more carefully, sniffed Saint’s hand, then leaned into the scratch behind his ears like he’d already decided this man was acceptable.
“I think he finally likes you,” I said.
Saint glanced up at me, a corner of his mouth lifting. “About time.”
I stepped back to let him in, and he paused just long enough to wipe his boots on the mat before crossing the threshold.
Small thing. But I noticed.
“I thought we could eat in the living room and watch a movie,” I suggested.
Saint nodded. “Whatever you want sounds good to me, doll.”
I closed the door behind him and led him over to the couch. Pepper hopped up on the couch, and Salt plopped his butt on the recliner.
Saint worked on taking the food out of the bag, and I sat next to Pepper with my legs tucked under me. “It smells amazing.”
“Chuck’s Diner. The best hot beef sandwich within a hundred miles. Nothing fancy, but delicious.”
My mouth watered at the mention of Chuck’s. “Please tell me you got the breaded mushrooms, too.”
Saint pulled out the last container and popped open the lid. “You know it. Did you go to Chuck’s if you didn’t get the breaded mushrooms?”
He held the container out to me, and I grabbed the biggest one. I popped it in my mouth and couldn’t help but moan. “This is perfect,” I said honestly.
“Told you,” Saint replied. “Didn’t need fancy.”
Pepper hopped off the couch and parked himself at my feet. It was at optimal eye level to see everything I put in my mouth. Salt settled in front of Saint’s feet, close enough that his front paws touched Saint’s boots.
“They’re very strategic,” Saint observed.
“They’ve had three years of practice,” I said. “They think sitting quietly earns them things.”
Saint glanced down at Salt. “Does it?”
Salt scooted forward an inch and huffed at Saint.
Saint chuckled and slid him a French fry. “Guess it does.”
The way Saint was with Salt and Pepper made my heart flip. Salt and Pepper were more than just dogs to me. They were like my family.
We talked while we ate. Easy things. Bakery chaos. His work at the body shop in town. Stories about Pepper and Salt’s ongoing vendetta against the vacuum cleaner.
At one point, Saint leaned back slightly and said, “I dropped the gingerbread house off at my mom’s.”
I smiled. “How did she like it?”
His eyes softened. “She loved it. Stood there for ten minutes just looking at it like it was a museum piece.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I would say that means she liked it.”
“She took pictures,” he added. “Sent them to three people. One of them twice.”
“That tracks.”
“She said it was the final piece to make the house feel like Christmas again,” Saint said quietly.
Something warm bloomed behind my ribs. “I’m glad.”
“What about your family?” Saint asked. “You’ve already met my mom, so you need to tell me at least your parents’ names.”
I shifted back onto the couch, and Pepper hopped up next to me. He lay down in my lap and sighed contentedly. It was hard work begging and eating French fries. “Uh, well, my mom’s name was Kate. She died when I was nine.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
I stroked Pepper’s head. “It’s okay.”
“What about your dad?” Saint asked.
“Well, I know he’s not dead, but I don’t know much more than that. The last time I talked to him was about a year ago.”
“That long? Something happened between you two?”
I stroked Pepper’s head and wondered how much I should tell Saint. My problems weren’t his. “My dad just was not making good choices. Drinking too much. Gambling away his paychecks, and then I had to pay his bills.”
“Sounds like you were more of the parent than he was.”
I laughed flatly. “Yeah, you would be correct.”
“So, nothing from him for a year?” he asked.
I sighed. “Not from him.”
He eyed me closely. “So everything is good then, right?”
It wasn’t. Not even close.
“Belle,” he called.
“What is it about you that makes me want to tell you everything?” I sighed.
He shrugged and sat back on the couch. “Whatever it is, I can help.”
I was going to tell him, but I chickened out.
“I just heard from one of his ex-girlfriends a couple of months ago. That’s all,” I replied.
It wasn’t a lie, either. I had heard from Candy two months ago, but I didn’t tell him that she contacted me because Bill had been threatening her to find me.
Those details I was going to leave out. “She was trying to find him to hook back up, and I told her I didn’t know where he was. ” I shrugged. “And I still don’t.”
Saint nodded and didn’t ask any more questions.
“What are we watching?” he asked after he carried the empty containers to the kitchen without asking. Again—small thing. Not showy. Just… thoughtful.
I grabbed the remote. “Home Alone.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Classic.”
“Required viewing this time of year,” I said.
We settled onto the couch just as the opening music started.
Pepper hopped up immediately and plopped himself between Saint and the end of the couch. He sprawled out like he owned the place, pressing his paws into Saint until he had to scoot down. Salt stayed on the floor but pressed himself against Saint’s feet.
Saint glanced down at Pepper.
“He’s very comfortable, and that’s where he normally lies,” I said.
Pepper stretched, effectively stealing half the couch.
Saint shifted closer so we both fit, and his arm brushed mine.
His arm came around me without hesitation, and I leaned into him.
Salt sighed contentedly at his feet.
Pepper snored.
Somewhere between Kevin setting traps and the Wet Bandits getting wrecked, my eyelids grew heavy. The warmth of Saint beside me, the sound of his breathing, and the safety of my own space all wrapped around me, and I drifted off to sleep.
*
I woke up to the final scene pressed up against Saint.
Saint hadn’t moved.
His arm was still around me, and his head tipped slightly as he watched the screen.
“You fell asleep,” he murmured.
“Did I?” I asked sleepily.
He smiled. “Yeah. For a bit.”
I stretched and sat up, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “You needed to rest.”
That mattered more than he probably realized. Salt groaned on the floor and stretched out. “I need to get the boys outside.”
Pepper jumped up at the word outside, and Salt stood sleepily.
“I’ll head out too, doll. You need to get some sleep. I’m sure the next five days are going to be crazy at the bakery.”
“Four days. Thankfully, we’re not open Christmas Eve, so I need to make it until Tuesday at six p.m. Then I plan on sleeping for at least forty-eight hours.”
I walked him to the door and pulled on a sweater I had draped over the couch while Saint pulled out his keys.
Pepper bounded toward the door like he knew this part of the routine. Salt was a few feet behind him.
Outside, the night was cold and quiet, with the porch light casting a soft glow over everything. The dogs wandered into the yard, sniffing and pacing while Saint and I stood close.
“I had a good time,” I said.
“Me too,” he replied. “Much better than a noisy bar.”
I smiled. “Yeah, I agree. It would have been weird if I took a nap in a bar.”
Saint chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from my face.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Saint leaned in slowly, giving me time to pull back if I wanted.
I didn’t.
The kiss was soft and unhurried, warm despite the cold air. No urgency. Just a connection.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against mine. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I’d like that.” I would love that, but I didn’t want to seem so eager.
He stepped back, gave Salt one last scratch and Pepper a quick pat, then headed down the steps.
I watched him drive away, dogs flanking me like guards, and my chest light in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.
The night had been exactly what I needed.
And as I shut the door and locked it behind us, for the moment, everything was good, and I had a feeling with Saint being around it was going to stay that way.