Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jenna
I don’t want to move. Why should I? I’ve just gotten a massage and fantastic sex.
Better than any I can remember right now.
Which is amazing, considering we’ve never slept together before.
It usually takes me a few times before I manage to have an orgasm with a new partner, and look at Aaron—he got me there the first try.
Sure, yes, I helped, but I was getting so close that I just wanted to get there. When I brought my knees up higher, and he drove into me just right—unghhh.
Yes, please. I’ll take that again as soon as I can get it.
But we can’t stay in this puddle of limbs all day, sadly.
His stomach grumbles—loudly—and I roll to my back, giggling like mad.
He grins, leaning over to kiss me. I caress his cheek as I kiss him back, gazing up at him, enjoying the clear affection in his eyes as he looks down at me. “Hungry?” I ask, as though the answer could be anything but yes.
“Very,” he murmurs. “I seem to have worked up an appetite.”
Grinning, I carefully separate myself from him, and he reaches down to grab the condom before it can pull off. “Then I guess I better finish making lunch.”
“I’ll get cleaned up,” he says.
I grab the tissue box off the side table and toss it to him before grabbing my robe, wrapping it around myself, and heading into the kitchen.
I wash my hands, then survey the lunch I started a little while ago that didn’t get finished—a half-cooked grilled cheese and cold soup in the pot.
Turning the burners back on, I start heating everything up again.
A few minutes later, Aaron comes out wearing only his jeans slung low on his hips, once again propping himself in the doorway to the kitchen as he watches me work. “Thank you for making lunch,” he says quietly.
“My pleasure,” I murmur, doing my best to make sure the first sandwich doesn’t turn black on the side that was already cooked. I just want to warm it up a little so it’s tasty.
Even though I plate up the first sandwich once it’s ready and give it to him, Aaron doesn’t start eating.
He waits for me. And something about that small act of consideration—especially when I know he’s starving—melts something inside me—some hard, cold knot that I didn’t even realize was there, much less that it was frozen.
Maybe it’s partly because we started off on the wrong foot that it’s easier to trust him now.
Amanda might have a point that I’m not used to being treated well, so I don’t see poor treatment as a red flag. But also, Ian started out flattering and sweet before turning dismissive and rude over time.
This situation is the opposite. Aaron was dismissive and a little rude for months before becoming sweet and caring.
In a way, it makes it easier to believe this behavior is genuine since he clearly has no problem doing the opposite if that’s what he feels.
Therefore, this sweetness must be in line with his feelings now.
Once both sandwiches are done and the soup is split between our bowls, I stand on tiptoes and give him a kiss. “You’re sweet.”
His eyebrows lift, as though he’s not sure what would prompt me to say such a thing, but he doesn’t question it. “Thank you. So are you.”
Food in hand, I lead the way to the living room, setting everything down on the coffee table and waiting for Aaron to do the same before gently pulling it closer. “Do you want to watch something while we eat?”
He shrugs. “We could.”
That doesn’t exactly sound like a ringing endorsement. “We don’t have to. We could just talk.”
Dipping his sandwich in his soup, he smiles at me. “I’d like that.”
Except we’re apparently both ravenous because it takes several minutes and half our food before we can pause long enough to actually talk about anything.
But when we finally start, conversation flows easily.
He ends up telling me more about his relationship with Colin’s mom and how that all works out, which is a far cry from the man who clammed up and bolted when it came up at the bar a week and a half ago.
I guess that means he feels pretty comfortable with me too, which makes me happy.
When his alarm goes off, he pulls out his phone and sighs. “Today’s been wonderful. I’m glad you let me take you sledding.”
“I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.” I stand with him, poking out my lower lip. “I wish you didn’t have to go, though.”
“Awww.” He mimics my expression. “It’s really hard to leave when you’re doing that.”
“You could abandon your responsibilities and just stay instead,” I suggest with a grin.
He laughs. “If anyone could tempt me to, it would be you. But sadly, I really can’t.”
“Awww.” Stepping closer, I wrap my arms around him, enjoying the feel of him without his shirt on for a few more seconds before he really has to get dressed and get out of here.
He hugs me back, then sighs before pulling away. “I really do have to go.”
“I know. As much as I selfishly want you to stay, I don’t actually want you to abandon Colin.”
Laughing, he ducks into my room and comes out with the rest of his clothes. “That’s good. If I really thought you did, this wouldn’t work.”
“I like that you’re responsible. And that you care.
It’s part of what makes you …” I shrug. “You.” Hearing him talk about his arrangements with Colin’s mom—and the fact that it was in the middle of dealing with his dad’s failing health and eventual death—puts his firm sense of responsibility into perspective, though.
It also explains a lot about why he’s so confident that he knows the right thing to do at any given time—he’s had to be the main person making decisions that affect the lives of himself and those closest to him for years now.
While I don’t necessarily think he’s right as often as he does—especially where ChristmasFest is concerned—his push back makes a lot more sense to me now than it did at first when it felt like obstinance for its own sake.
Even after his apology, without the additional context of everything leading up to now from the time he returned to Arcadian Falls, it still seemed more like resistance to me—the new person from elsewhere—trying to make changes.
And while I still think that might’ve been in play, a large part of it was also taking care of this thing that’s been a huge part of his family story for decades.
It’s another responsibility of his that he takes seriously—making sure ChristmasFest stays the vital part of the town culture it’s been since its inception.
Taking care of it is as important to him as taking care of his farm, his child, and his mom.
In the same way he had to jump in and start making decisions at the farm and with Colin, projecting confidence even when he didn’t feel it, he makes confident decisions about his part in ChristmasFest, assuming he’s right unless and until given substantial and significant evidence to the contrary.
While he’s getting his boots on, I go into my room and quickly pull on my leggings and sweater from earlier, not wanting to say goodbye to him wearing only my robe.
“Thank you again for today,” I say, crossing to the dining area where he’s putting on his coat and double checking he has his keys and phone.
“No need to thank me.” He shakes his head. “All I did was drive us to the sledding hill.”
“And bring sleds. And snow gear for me to borrow. Don’t forget to take that with you, by the way.”
He shrugs. “Why don’t you hang onto it for now. What if we decide to have a snowball fight for our next date?”
Laughing, I step closer, slipping my arms around his middle inside his coat. We tossed a few snowballs at each other today, though for me it was mostly handfuls of snow. I wasn’t very good at making it into balls. “You’ll have to teach me to make a good snowball then.”
“I think I can handle that,” he murmurs, rubbing my back and dropping a kiss on my lips. “If I don’t leave, I’m going to be late, though. And I don’t want Colin to panic.”
I squeeze him, and we kiss once more. “Go. I don’t want Colin to panic either.”
He gives me one last lingering kiss before tearing himself away and reaching for the door.
“I’ll text you,” he says, and I follow him to the door, waving at him when he glances back at me on his way to his truck.
He waves back, rolling down the passenger window and waving again before pulling away.
Only then do I close the door, leaning against it and sighing once he’s really and truly gone.
Today was … amazing.
None of these dates are what I typically think of, with the notable exception of when he took me out to dinner on our first date. But a car picnic looking out at the water and sledding? Not so much.
Is that why I like him so much? Because he’s different and plans different kinds of dates for us?
It’s at least part of it, for sure.
I also like how responsible he is, even if it means that my apartment feels extra empty now that he’s gone, off to be responsible some more.
Grabbing my phone, I look at the time—a little before three thirty. Amanda’ll still be at work. I’d rather call her, but I guess I’ll settle for a text.
The sledding date is officially over. He came over for lunch after. I really like him. I know you said it’s because I’m used to being treated badly and that’s why I gave him a chance, but he doesn’t treat me badly AT ALL. He’s sweet and kind and considerate and … gah! I’ve got it bad
I reread what I’ve typed, consider deleting it, but hit send instead. I want to admit all of that. I need to. I need to talk to my friend about all of this, both to keep me from getting swept off my feet, but also to squeal with me about the good things. And I know Amanda will do both.
Scooping up the remote, I grab my favorite fuzzy blanket from the basket next to the couch where I stashed it while Aaron was here and cuddle up in the corner, turning on the TV.
But as I’m still browsing through my options of something to watch—I want something that fits my mood, but I’m not sure what, exactly, that would be—my phone rings.
“You had a date that lasted like five hours?” she asks as soon as I accept her call.
“Something like that, yeah.”
“How was sledding? Did you freeze your ass off? Did he warm it up for you once you got home?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “It was a ton of fun. I did not, in fact, freeze my ass off. Hiking back up to the top of the hill is a workout. But he did still offer to warm me up once we got home.”
“Ooooh. I’m on my break, so I only have a few minutes, but fill me in on the highlights.”
I tell her about the date, and how he couldn’t wait for lunch before taking me to my bedroom. “Love that for you!” she quips when I get to that part.
I’m grinning like an idiot, totally smitten, and I know it. “He’s really great, Amanda. I really, really like him.”
“I’m so glad,” she says, and at her words, relief washes over me.
Some part of me was bracing for her judgment, especially after the unfavorable things she’s said about Ian since that breakup.
Apparently she never liked him, and I had no idea at all.
When I confronted her about that, she just shrugged and said, “You liked him, and I had to let that be enough. If I’d have told you I thought he was a pompous ass, would you have listened? ”
Her previous warnings about not jumping in too deep too quickly also made me worried that she’d be judgy about how much I like Aaron already. “You don’t think it’s too fast?” I ask in a small voice, unable to stop myself from poking the bruise.
“Oh, babes. No. You’re supposed to like the person you’re dating a lot. Would I think it’s too fast if you called me up and told me you were moving in together? Absolutely. If you told me you were in love, I might tell you to pump the brakes. But this? This is fantastic. And I’m thrilled for you.”
“Thanks, Amanda.”
We chat for another minute before she has to go, and with that one short phone call, I feel better. My apartment feels less empty. Instead of lonely, I feel content. Today was a good day. And tomorrow will be good too.