Page 32 of Snow Globe Secrets

“Randall? Please.” I poured one coffee down the sink and walked to the refrigerator. “What time is it? Ahh, what does it matter? It’s not like we’re driving anywhere; do you want a beer? Or some wine?” He looked horrified, and I looked wide-eyed and then questioning in return. It wasn’t alcohol he was after; he’d have to tell me.

“Tea,” he croaked, like it was the hardest thing he’d ever said.

“Tea. Great! On it.” I rinsed out the mug and filled it with water, muttering, “Tea, Earl Grey. Hot.” Randall was still hovering behind me, so I turned my head and said, ”Go, work. I’ll bring this over.”

As I was sidestepping to reach for the microwave door, he let out this little whimper. I was doing something wrong again. I turned and raised my arms in a shrug, water sloshing. “What?” I asked with a small laughing lilt. Randall did that thing where he took a beat to think about his reaction.

Then he blinded me with a teasing smile. Wow, I liked that a little too much. In an exaggerated, but to my ears authentic, English accent, he responded, “That may be how they make it on a starship, but here on earth, we use this.”

I liked it so much that I had to stifle one of those “unghs” as he hip checked me, took the mug, and dumped the water back in the sink. A pitcher of some sort sat on the counter, and he filled that with water instead, plugged it in, and retrieved a much-more-delicate mug and a huge bag of tea from the cabinet above where he was working.

He placed them on the counter, pulling out a second mug and looking at me in question.

“Sure, why not. But you need to get to work, so can you show me how that contraption works?”

He placed a small amount of water in each teacup and put them both in the microwave, repeating my mumbled, “Tea, Earl Grey. Hot.” He set the timer but didn’t start the machine.

“Okay,” he said with confidence. “The contraption just pours, but before we get to that, right when you hear it start to boil, press start on the microwave. When that’s done, swish the water around to warm up the cup. Then you pour that water out.”

“This is a lot of steps for tea.”

“I thought so too, once upon a time. After that, the tea bag goes in, boiling water goes almost to the top, let it steep for about five minutes. I like mine strong, then it’s a splash of milk.”

“Got it, London. Warm, bag, boil, pour, milk.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Now you’re just lingering, waiting for the water to heat up.” I pointed toward the fireplace. “Go!”

“Alrighty, then.”

He added two more pieces of wood to the fire before finally getting settled and logging into his computer. I expected him to get back on the phone, but instead, he just started typing away, his back straight, the computer propped up on a throw pillow on his lap. I imagined this wasn’t the first time he’d sat in that exact spot, working on that laptop, alone in his beautiful cabin.

I threw together some of the lunch meats we had bought and presented him with a sandwich and what I hoped was a passable cup of tea, setting a tray down on the coffee table. He was so focused that he ignored me. I could see his screen, and I expected to find him answering email or reading something, but the long string of characters on the page made me think he was coding. I opened my mouth to ask, but he was concentrating so intensely that I decided against it. I did say one thing. Softly, I encouraged, “Don’t let the tea get cold, London.”

Then I quietly took my plate back to the kitchen table and ate there, watching the back of his head as he solved whatever problem was before him, that little red spot visible underneath his perfectly groomed hairline. Even the straight line of his spine was sexy, his whole body exuding concentration and focus. It was no hardship to give him the time he needed and just watch him work from my perch in the kitchen. I was overwhelmingly relieved when he did lean down and sip his tea, and a few minutes later, when he absentmindedly took a bite from the sandwich.

I texted with my parents, letting them know we were okay, feeling a little strange about what I had been doing to fill up the hours alone with their old friend but never once feeling like we had done anything wrong. We were two consenting adults, no matter how we’d met.

They let me know that the snow near them had stopped, and that the second wave of the storm wasn’t scheduled to hit them. Once we could get out of Randall’s driveway and down the mountain, we should be able to make it home.

I quietly cleaned up the kitchen and retrieved my tablet, tucking myself into a chair and reading as Randall’s fingers flew while the rest of him remained virtually still. He was in the zone with whatever he was doing, and I could have watched him from my new angle as well, but I didn’t want to distract him, so I pulled up a book and quietly shared his space.

Next thing I knew, my tablet was being taken from me. I opened my eyes, and he was leaning above me, looking apologetic.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just worried you’d drop this.” He waved the tablet and placed it behind him before draping a blanket over my legs.

I sighed and stretched. I had no idea how long I’d been out, but my voice had a note of sleep in it as I responded, “Didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was promised a holiday romance with you.”

His eyes expanded to the size of saucers if saucers could be shocked. I replayed my words. “Holiday movie! A cheesy made-for-TV Christmas-themed movie!”

“Right,” he said, then he dropped to the edge of the coffee table and did that thing where he slumped his head, like a damn puppy that had done something wrong. He needed to know he hadn’t done a fucking thing wrong.

“I’m sorry, I …” I untucked my legs and leaned forward to meet him eye to eye.

“You get in the zone when you're coding or whatever you were doing. It’s fucking hot.”

He thought my comment was so funny that his demeanor changed immediately, and he took to laughing. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I was typing on a computer, and you make me sound like one of those sexy superheros.” Yeah, he’d nailed it.