Chapter 24 Like Superglue
Like Superglue
Heidi crept downstairs at eight the next morning. Her head was muzzy from too little sleep and maybe too much beer, but it was Thanksgiving morning, an important day for Morgan. One with the potential to be melancholy.
Morgan’s confession the night before had made things fall into place.
Linda’s diagnosis and Morgan’s commitment to cover costs would be a reason for the seemingly financially comfortable Morgan to take a roommate.
Although that supposed that Linda’s diagnosis was not new.
There was still something missing in the puzzle that was Morgan.
But right now, Heidi intended them to have a day to remember, a day to start new traditions—even if this was the only year they would celebrate together.
She flattened her palm against the counter.
Morgan—prickly, buttoned-up Morgan—was fast becoming a major part of Heidi’s life.
Which was unexpected…but good. The times when Morgan’s subtle sense of humor made an appearance.
Or when she frowned and stared at those spreadsheets she was always working on—seemingly intent but always stopping for coffee if Heidi offered.
When they kissed.
When Heidi had held her in her arms and comforted her.
That was the Morgan who was worming her way into Heidi’s life in a good way. A very good way.
She refocused on Thanksgiving and breakfast. Christmas morning in Australia, she and Fiona had always made breakfast for the rest of the family.
What had started purely as a way for her and Fi to escape the cleanup later, was now a Lincoln family tradition.
Chunks of potato, pan-fried, then baked with whatever they found in the fridge, all topped with eggs and smothered in hot sauce always got them through the day until the late-afternoon dinner.
Potato mess was about to go intercontinental, although maybe with less hot sauce.
When Morgan appeared in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes and finding her way to the coffee machine by blind instinct, Heidi was whisking eggs in a bowl.
“Good morning! Happy Thanksgiving! Is that what you say, or is there some secret handshake or something?”
“Happy Thanksgiving is fine.”
Heidi left the eggs and went across. “Then Happy Thanksgiving.” She pressed a kiss to Morgan’s cheek and pretended not to notice how Morgan’s skin was soft under her lips, and the fine tremor that ran through her when she stepped away again.
“To you as well. Is that breakfast? It looks…interesting.”
“It is. And it will be about ten minutes. Long enough for you to guzzle that coffee. Also, it snowed in the night, and it’s your turn to shovel the path.
But if you ask me nicely, we can do it together, seeing how it’s a holiday and we don’t have to work.
” She paused. “That is, I’m assuming you don’t have to work?
Your overseas clients don’t expect that? ”
“No work for me. Just overeating and now, it seems, snow shoveling.”
Heidi slid the tray into the oven. Out of the corner of her eye, she took in Morgan’s flannel pajamas, dark green printed with yellow ducks.
They were cute and entirely not what she expected Morgan to wear.
The top was also misbuttoned, and one side of the top sagged, showing pale skin and a hint of a curve of the top of her breast. Heidi dragged her eyes away, focusing on the spice rack behind Morgan’s head.
Morgan was delicious. How had she not noticed it in the first ten seconds of meeting her?
She poured herself another coffee for something to do with her hands that wasn’t reaching out to touch her.
They ate breakfast looking out at the backyard covered in a few inches of snow. Clearmont Street was quiet, with only the occasional crunch of tires along the snowy road or the clatter of studded snow tires.
Then Morgan went off to video chat with her parents in Vermont, and Heidi called Fiona to get her recipe for pan-fried brussels sprouts that made her most hated vegetable almost edible.
~ ~ ~
They decided that since the snow had stopped, they’d work up an appetite for dinner by shoveling snow.
Once the turkey was in the oven and the sides had been prepared, they went outside dressed head to toe in winter gear and armed with snow shovels.
Five inches of powder covered the steps and front yard.
“Let’s have a race.” Heidi settled her scarf more tightly. “One side of the path each, first to make a clear shovel width to the end wins.”
Morgan smothered a smile. She’d seen Heidi shoveling snow on days when it was her turn, and she was confident she’d win this. “What does the winner get?”
Heidi shrugged. “You choose.”
“Loser has to clean up after dinner.”
“Ooh, you’re confident.” She took position on the left-hand side of the steps.
Morgan took the right-hand side. She eyed Heidi. Her jeans clung to her curvy thighs, and her new snow boots were still pristine. A beanie perched on top of her head, only a swoop of green hair—the latest color—falling over her forehead. Cute. So very cute.
“On the count of three,” Heidi said. “Three, two, one, go!” She started shoveling, throwing the powder snow off to the side. The loose powder tipped off her shovel as she threw, and as much fell back on the path as off it.
Morgan watched her for a moment. Too easy.
She faced the road and set the shovel blade down, angled toward the grass.
As she walked steadily forward, the blade acted as a snowplow, pushing the powder snow off the path.
She reached the end in only a couple of minutes, while Heidi was still less than halfway along.
Her head was down, breath puffing in the cold as she flung powder haphazardly away from the path.
Morgan leaned on her shovel and waited. In another couple of minutes, Heidi reached the end and flung her shovel down, breathing hard. “How did you finish so quickly?”
“Skill and experience. It’s hopeless trying to shovel powder snow. Your way works when the snow’s wetter, but not when it’s this cold. So I scrape.” She demonstrated.
“For that, you can do the sidewalk while I catch my breath.”
Morgan soon cleared a path along the sidewalk, continuing on to their neighbor’s section. She returned to where Heidi stood at the end of the path, cheeks ruddy from the cold, a dusting of snow on her jacket. Her chest rose and fell under her clothes.
“Your good deed for the day.” With a wave, Heidi indicated Aileen’s section of sidewalk.
“She’s away.”
“I guess I’m on cleanup duty, then. Ha!” Heidi bent and scooped up a handful of snow, then tried to shape it into a snowball. She flung it at Morgan but it disintegrated, falling between them.
“Oh, Heidi.” Morgan shook her head. “Your snowball fight will also have to wait until warmer weather.”
Heidi glanced up at the sky. “It might snow again.”
“It might. Let’s go inside, light the fire, and open the best bottle of wine.”
“Now you’re talking.” Heidi’s eyes sparkled like sunlight. She stamped her way up the clear path, letting the snow fall from her boots before she kicked them off on the porch and padded inside in socked feet.
Morgan followed and went over to the open fireplace and the basket of kindling and logs. She kneeled and layered a small fire while Heidi watched.
“Lighting the fire is always my job at my parents’ place at Thanksgiving.
” She fixed her gaze on the growing pile of logs.
“One-Match Morgan, that’s what my dad calls me every year.
I haven’t failed yet.” She struck a match and held it close to the edge of newspaper.
The flame flickered along the edge before growing as it caught the kindling.
“What does everyone else do?”
“Mom’s chief cook—she does the turkey and sides, Dad handles cleanup.
Mom delegates the rest of the meal. As well as the fire, it’s my job to make sure there are enough appetizers to stop people complaining that they’re starving but not too many that they won’t eat dinner.
Aunt Linda does”—her voice caught, and, for a second, she couldn’t continue.
“Aunt Linda and her kids normally do dessert.”
Heidi hunkered down next to her and wrapped her arms around Morgan’s shoulders. “Come here.” She pressed a kiss to Morgan’s hair.
“It’s okay to feel sad. It’s okay to feel helpless.” Heidi took a breath. “It’s natural to feel unwanted and excluded at times like this. But Linda is making her choice.”
“I know that.” Morgan’s throat closed over.
“I just want her to get well.” She stayed like that for a few more moments until the smell of woodsmoke made her raise her head.
The flames crackled merrily in the grate.
“I should check on the turkey.” She pushed herself to her feet and went into the kitchen.
The turkey was browning nicely. She took plates from the cabinet and started to set the table.
~ ~ ~
“That was amazing.” Heidi slumped back in her chair and let her arms dangle. “I want to loosen my jeans.”
“Be my guest.” Morgan had already undone the top of her jeans, but there was no need to admit that to Heidi.
Heidi flipped her shirt out of the way. Morgan swallowed hard at the strip of skin it revealed, and then again as Heidi undid her button and lowered an inch of zipper.
Heat blazed in Morgan’s chest. Heidi’s long fingers slipping the button, lowering the zipper, was painting her mind with similar scenarios that had nothing to do with overeating and everything to do with how Heidi might react if Morgan was the one unzipping her pants.
Heidi groaned and arched her hips. The zipper strained, and another few teeth unzipped. “Don’t even talk to me about pumpkin pie. Let’s sit comfortably and let this digest first.”
They took their wine over to the couch. Heidi set her glass down and fell back on the couch. “I have to work tomorrow. Although”—she glanced out of the window—“it’s snowing again. Maybe it will snow all night, and I won’t be able to get to work. How much snow is enough to get a snow day?”