She flits into the kitchen as the kettle starts to scream. “I’m surprised you even have hot chocolate, especially the good stuff. I pegged you for a black coffee only kind of guy.”
I shrug as she sets the mug in front of me on the coffee table. Nothing is more boring than drinking the same thing every day. It’s why I learned how to cook. I don’t get into town very often, and I can’t eat the same old thing day after day.
Studying my drink, I see she’s not just added marshmallows, but nutmeg on top. She’s even found a candy cane to stick in it. It takes me a moment to figure out how to drink the stupid stuff.
“Do you just make girly drinks?” I mumble to myself.
“Oh, you think that’s a girly drink. Just wait.” Well, I thought I said it to myself. The woman must have ears like a bat. I’ll have to remember that next time. “So what do you do around here for fun when you’re snowed in?”
“We don’t get snowed in.”
“Yeah, but how about on your days off? What do you do for fun? Got any board games?”
“They take more than one player, so no.” I feel my scowl returning as she looks around the room.
“You might be the only man I know with a television but no video game console.” There is no way I’m telling her that I either read or sketch in my downtime.
I was always good at drawing, and I’m even better now. There are a couple of my works in one of the small galleries in Austin.The sales from them help supplement my retirement fund. I even won the art fair my senior year of high school, but she’s too young to remember that.
“Travis said you don’t have satellite internet,” she says. Travis has a big mouth. “How do you check emails or Google anything?” I shrug again.
To be honest, I don’t miss it that much. There is a point on top of the hill behind the house where I can hit the cell phone tower. I’m usually up there every other day or so. It would probably give her a heart attack to know that I don’t have social media of any kind. If I need to, I can always go to the library in town.
“Hey, I have an idea. Do you get TV reception out here?”
“Should.” I have a tower on the side of the house that picks up a couple of the local channels out of Austin. I do watch the weather forecast from time to time.
“When was the last time you got hooked on a daytime soap?”
“Never.”
“You are in for a treat then.” She grabs the remote and a blanket and moves to the couch next to me. Pressing the remote, she hunts through the five channels until she lands on something that meets her approval.
“Oh, this is a good one. So, that guy’s Andre. He’s the head of a large network of spies.” She continues to lay out the entire plot of the show for me. I’m not really paying attention, but I like when she throws the blanket over us and settles next to me.
Damn if she’s not right. Half an hour later I’m completely obsessed with this shit. This is dangerous. I can just imagine the ranch falling apart around me while I’m engrossed in my “stories.”
Tossing back the blanket, I stand. I grab the empty mugs and walk into the kitchen to put them in the sink. It’s getting close tolunchtime anyway. Usually, I just grab a quick sandwich before heading back out to work. I wonder if she likes sandwiches.
“What are we having?” She’s followed me into the kitchen.
“Grilled ham and cheese?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I guess she can either eat what I make or go hungry. It’s not like I’m running a bed and breakfast here.
“Yum. With soup?”
“Sure,” I agree.
“I’ll do the soup while you do the sandwiches.” I’ll show you something I want to do, I almost say. Instead, I just grunt in agreement.
Throwing myself into making sandwiches helps reroute my mind back to what’s important instead of on my sexy new housemate. At least until she sidles up to me at the stove. She’s humming again as she pours the can of soup into a pan.
“You’re humming,” I point out.
“Am I?” She adds milk to the tomato soup and begins to stir it. “I guess I am. Ever get something stuck in your head that you can’t quite get right? I’ve had a song dancing around up there since I got here. I keep thinking that it’ll either leave or turn into something.”
I study her as she stirs the soup. “I know, you think I’m crazy.” I’m sure I have a scowl on my face that leads her to believe that.
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” I answer. “Not for that anyway.”
