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I smile and lean against the island. “I’m telling you. You surprise me every day, Nick. I thought for sure you’d be the type to do takeout every night.”
He gestures to the pot. “If you don’t like this, we can do that.”
I shake my head quickly. “Oh, no. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since someone has cooked for me?” I clap my hands together. “I’m excited.”
He points toward the table. “Sit down.”
“I can help.” I start toward him.
He holds up a hand. “No.”
“No?” I tilt my head.
“You’ve been working all day. Sit.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Nick, you’ve been working all day too. I’m perfectly capable of helping with dinner.”
He nods. “I know you are, but I want to do this for you.”
I stare at him and then walk over to the table and sit down. While he finishes cooking dinner, I’m thinking about the few days I’ve been here. Not once has he made me feel like a nuisance. He’s gone out of his way to take care of me and make me feel at home. But it’s more than that. He makes sure I’m eating, he carries things for me, and he’s always asking if I need anything. Heck, last night I fell asleep on the couch, and I woke up in my bed under the covers. I know that he carried me there.
He sets a bowl and plate in front of me. I look at the soup, salad, and bread, and my stomach growls. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He goes back into the kitchen, and a minute later, he comes back with a glass and sets it beside my plate. I pick up the drink and look at it. It’s pink with a scoop of what looks like sherbet floating in the middle. I look from the glass to him. “What is this?”
He clears his throat, and his cheeks turn pink. My eyes widen in surprise. What is happening right now? The grumpy bah humbug just made me a frou frou drink? “Nick?”
He looks almost embarrassed. “It’s called a Christmas Kiss.”
I stare at him.
He immediately points at the drink. “It’s fruit punch, sherbet, and lemon-lime soda.”
I bite my lip, trying not to smile too big. “You made me a Christmas drink?”
He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “It’s just a drink.”
I slowly swish the liquid around in the glass. “A drink called Christmas Kiss.”
His cheeks are scarlet now. Oh my gosh. Nicholas Winters is blushing.
I take a sip and then lick the foam from my upper lip. I close my eyes and savor the flavor.
“Well?” he asks.
I open my eyes and look at him. “It’s really good. I can’t believe you made this for me, Nick.”
He sits down and seems to be looking everywhere but at me. I take another drink and watch him over the rim of the glass. This man told me he doesn’t do Christmas, and now he’s making me Christmas drinks.
We eat dinner and talk about our day, and by the time we finish, I’m not nearly as tired as I was when I walked in.
Nick starts gathering the plates.
I stand. “Okay, now I’m helping.”
“No.” He takes the bowl from my hands.
