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In the kitchen, Emma put on some coffee while she debated breakfast. The fact that he either didn’t eat breakfast or only ate an apple explained a lot about how lean he was, hard muscle over visible bone. As tall as he was, he could’ve probably picked up a good twenty pounds and still looked thin.
Still debating, she had another idea for Caine, and assembled a little tin of Christmas cookies for him that she slipped into the top of his gift bag.
Finally, she settled on pancakes because she could use her oversized cookie cutters to form the batter into shapes. She mixed the batter and heated the griddle pan, then gave the big snowman-shaped cutter a light dusting of non-stick cooking spray and got the first pancake underway.
Her gaze went to the clock on the stove. It was a little after eight. Definitely late enough that Alison would be awake, but maybe not late enough that they’d be done with their present-opening bonanza. Emma didn’t want to disturb that, but she also needed to decide what to do about dinner. Would it be too weird to bring Caine over? Would he even want to go? Would he think Emma should leave her house at all amid everything that was going on? Heck, did he have Christmas plans of his own to get to?
Emma flipped the first pancake, smiling to see that she’d done a decent job using the cookie cutter. She adjusted the heat for the next one, another snowman.
Even more interesting was another reaction stirring inside her—part of her wanted to stay in this bubble with Caine and see where things might go between them. Well, go beyond sex. Though she was definitely open to more of that, too.
By the time she heard Caine’s boots stomping against her back porch, she had a plate full of snowmen, Santa heads, snowflakes, and Christmas trees. The keys she’d given him turned in the lock, and then Caine was back, red-nosed and grim-faced.
Emma’s shoulders fell. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Everything looks clear.”
Chewy raced happily to his dish, where his breakfast was already waiting.
“Oh. Really?” She searched his expression.
“Really.” He came and pulled her into his arms. “Smells good in here.”
She smiled. “I made festive pancakes.”
“Are there any other kind?” he deadpanned.
That made her laugh. “Good point. I suppose all pancakes are, on some fundamental level, at least a little festive.” She handed him the stacked-high plate. “Take that to the table for me?”
He nodded and did as she asked, and she collected everything else they needed—butter, syrup, silverware, napkins.
“Mind if I grab some coffee?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said with a little smile.
“You have some yet?” he asked, eyebrow arched. She shook her head. “How do you take it?”
Her smile grew, at first because he’d thought to ask. And then, because the potential for innuendo was too good to pass up. “Any way you give it.”
“Keep that up and the pancakes will be ice cold by the time I’m done with you.”
Emma’s smile grew wider and her pulse spiked. “Two milk, two sugar,” she said.
A moment later, they settled at the table together and dug into the sweet, fluffy hotcakes. She smiled to herself when he made quick work of two and took a third.
“So, I wanted to ask you if you had plans for the day,” she asked. “Somewhere you need to be later?”
He shook his head. “Some of the guys get together for Christmas dinner at the clubhouse, but I don’t always go.”
“Why not? If they’re like your family?” She took a long sip of her coffee. He’d made it perfectly.
He tilted his head and met her waiting gaze. “I guess for so many years the day reminded me of things I’d lost or would never have, and now I just shy away from it rather than face those reminders.”
It was a far more brutally honest answer than she’d expected, and her heart tripped into a sprint as goosebumps raced down her neck. All she could do was nod.
“You have plans for today?” he asked as if he hadn’t just shone a light on part of the wounds inside him for her.
“I’m going to text my friend and cancel them,” she said, deciding in that very instant what to do about Alison’s dinner. Emma wasn’t to be her only guest anyway. Alison’s big family numbered more than twenty when everyone came. Her bestie would understand. “I’d like to spend the day with you.”
He gave a nod, though his gaze didn’t quite meet hers, but she would’ve sworn she saw a little smile play around those full lips. “You gonna eat that last snowflake?” he asked, pointing at the nearly empty platter with his fork.
“Nope. That snowflake has your name all over it,” she said, really freaking satisfied to see him enjoying what she’d made. Not that pancakes were any big deal, but it seemed like the fact that he was eating a real meal might’ve been.
