Page 45 of A Love Like Candle Light

“What would Abby have done to get arrested?” Erik chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee. Then he offers it to me. My cheeks turn red. Holy we’re-getting-comfortable-with-each-other.

With a grin that might border on psychotic, and my heart fluttering faster than a drug dealer would run once he spots this car, I take it. Only for a little sip.

“Cold-blooded murder,” I mumble and hand him the cup back. The rain is now seeping through the fabric of my pants and through my socks. It sends a cold shiver down my spine that ends in a full-body tremble because it opened the gates to me freezing.

As soon as Erik realizes it, he pushes a button on his dashboard and hot air blows on my soaking wet jeans.

Damn. He’s observant.

“I mean, she has watched enough true-crime documentaries with me to cover up a murder. Then again, she’s a dog, has maybe three brain cells on a good day, and I say that lovingly. Also, she sleeps through most of them, so she’s bound to make a mistake,” I explain, tapping my fingertip against my lips as I think.

“What would her method be? Do you think she’s a poison girlie, or is she going for the knife?”

“Huh.” I stare at the rearview mirror. She blinks at me with her shiny big eyes, then burrows further into the seat to get comfortable.

“She’d try to make it look like an accident. You know, pushing someone down the stairs ‘accidentally,’” I emphasize with air quotes. “Or shoving them off a highway bridge or in front of a semi-truck at full speed.”

His lips curl into an amused grin as he unwraps his pastry from Caleb’s.

“I think her demise would be not being able to keep a secret. Hell, I am horrible at keeping secrets. She’d get caught in a heartbeat.” I shake my head. Suddenly, a heavenly smell fills the car. It makes my mouth water and a lightning speed dia-show of Christmas memories run through my head.

“What magnificent pastry do you have there?” I ask and eye the pastry in his hand with the same curiosity as Abby stares at whatever I’m eating. An expression screaming ‘Gimme!’

“I have no idea.” He holds up what looks like a cinnamon roll. From the smell, I don’t think there’s only cinnamon in there, though. At least not as the only ingredient. “But Caleb made it. He’s never steered me wrong so far.”

Oblivious to the waterfall forming at my mouth, both at the smell of the pastry and the way his wet hair falls into his face, he takes a bite. Then he groans. And closes his eyes.

Did someone say waterfall? I might have the damn Niagara Falls going now. That was obscenely hot.

And boy, do I want to try the pastry. And maybe to kiss him.

Raindrops are hitting the windshield of his car with loud ‘thunks.’ Not a soul is out on the streets of Wayward Hollow in this rain. Damn, I hope Kieran found shelter in time.

Nobody is around to notice me in his passenger seat, watching him chew, eyebrows creased and his thick eyelashes fluttering.

My eyes wander past him to the other side of the street.

Can I book it over to Caleb’s without getting too wet? I eye the distance. I only have to get out of the car and cross the street. I could probably do it in less than a minute, but I reckon even ten seconds would be enough to soak me to the bone. And I kind of really don’t want to leave right now.

“Here.” Suddenly, the deliciousness appears in front of my face. “Try it.”

“Really? Erik, it’s your lunch. I’m not about to—”

“I’m offering.” I blink at him. Is this actually happening? When did we reach the ‘food and drink sharing’ stage? I’m so not complaining, but maybe a little overwhelmed. “Last chance, Kylie. I’m not too eager to share my food.”

Before he can change his mind, I lean forward and take a bite. My eyes widen as soon as the taste hits my tongue and now, I understand why he moaned. It’s buttery, and there’s cinnamon and roasted walnuts and apple and everything good about fall.

“That”—I point at his hand as he retracts it—“is the best thing from Caleb’s I’ve ever eaten. Did he have more? I might barge in there and buy myself a lifetime supply.”

“This was the last one.” My face falls. He grins and takes another big bite.

“Alas, there goes my hope.” I swallow my disappointment. A low sound comes from the back of his throat as he chews. Damn. I really need to bring this conversation back to an un-moanable topic. “Are you having a busy day at work?” I ask Erik, tearing my eyes away from the pastry. And his lips. But mostly the pastry.

“Oh, you know. The usual.” He mumbles, breaks a piece off, and offers it to me. I try to subtly wet my lips without appearing too desperate. “Ah damn.” He retracts it, only because the pastry is about to fall apart in his lap.

And once he’s gathered all of the bigger crumbs in one of his giant hands, he offers me a piece again and this time, I’m ready. I’ve learned my lesson.

Before he can even consider changing his mind, I lean in and open my mouth. Then my lips close around the piece. And for a fraction of a second, my tongue nudges his finger.