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“I know the one. My grandmother had the same book in her kitchen, dog-eared and well-loved. I’ve got my own I found at a flea market for the nostalgia factor. You want to make some cookies for Brandon and Elaine? I’ll help.” Predictably, he already had his phone out, likely to schedule cookie-making time.
“They might burn,” I hedged. Two decades had passed, and I could still remember the smell of our little kitchen in the days leading up to Christmas. Hadn’t occurred to me to try to duplicate it. “I’m good at meat. Not fiddly stuff.”
“If the first batch is crap, we simply try again.” Gideon shrugged with the confidence of someone who’d never worried about the price of butter. “Or we order some, but we should try baking our own first.”
“All right.” It was easier to go along with the Gideon express. I could afford some wasted flour these days. “I don’t have the shapes though.”
“Cookie cutters? I have you covered. I’ve got a collection.” He made another note on his phone before setting it aside.
“Somehow, I’m not surprised.” I shook my head. He was somehow too much and exactly right at the same time, and the rest of dinner was similarly easy as he finally turned his attention back to the food.
“Dinner was good,” he said as we finished and carried our plates to the kitchen. “You should make something like this for your guests.”
Oh crap. I was going to need to feed Brandon and Elaine too. And he’d probably developed more refined tastes out in California than the endless bowls of cereal he’d lived on as a teen.
“Don’t suppose you do menu planning as another side gig?”
“I can help you brainstorm, absolutely.” Gideon nodded as he helped me load the dishwasher. “Left to my own devices, I tend to revert to easy options, but I like cooking for others. Entertaining.”
“That sounds fancy.”
“You’re cute when you get suspicious.” He waited for me to toss in the dishwasher soap pellet before shutting the door. “Let’s go assemble your train, then I can help you start thinking about a menu and shopping list.”
“The train can wait.” Merely watching his bustle around my kitchen in his starched white shirt and plaid bow tie had the need to kiss him bubbling up again. And without the risk of ruining dinner, I was done resisting.
“No, it can’t.” He tugged me back to the dining room, totally missing my I-want-to-eat-you-alive vibes. “Come on.”
“You’re worse than a kid,” I complained. I was still kissing him, but I could give him this first. He was already carrying over the big box that held the Christmas train set.
“Guilty. But I’m fun. Or so I’m told.” He set the box in front of me as we both knelt by the tree.
“You’re fun,” I agreed.
“Really?” His eyebrows shot up like he’d expected an argument.
I shrugged. “Guess you’re growing on me.”
“Good.” He puffed up like Jim after she earned extra treats. “Open the box.”
I pulled off the lid and slid out the pieces, and Gideon immediately set to examining the various train parts.
“Ooh! The ring box could go right there.” He pointed to one of the cars, which did have an opening that might hold a small box. “And look! They even have a tiny engineer.”
“Nice.” I took the engine from him, studying the little details that gave it an old-fashioned feel. “Had a grandfather who worked freight trains. His father too. I had a set when I was little. Used to think it would be fun, driving a train.”
“I’m very much enjoying the image of you with an engineer’s hat.” Gideon gave a happy sigh. “My grandfather’s family ran a haberdashery, fine men’s furnishings, down near Center City.”
“And now we know where you get your sense of style.” Laughing, I pointed to his jaunty bow tie.
“Oh, my grandfather was a much snappier dresser than me. I’ve got the cuff link collection to prove it. He never left the house without a hat and always had a linen handkerchief on him.”
“That’s nice that you kept his collection.”
“I had to beg my dad to let me have it when they were selling everything off.” Gideon made a sour face, and any jealousy I had about him getting to keep more pieces of his past faded. The more I understood his little collections and traditions, the more I appreciated him, the way he’d fought to keep certain things going.
It didn’t take along before the train was assembled, track going around the base of the tree. It did look nice there, train waiting patiently on the tracks.
Gideon, however, was not so patient, thrusting the controller at me. “There. Last piece. Turn it on.”
