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She turned and blasted him with a look. “Go away.”
“I am sorry.”
She shrugged but did not respond. He stepped forward until he was standing next to her and to his relief, she did not move away.
“Want me to warm you up?”
“No.”
“Want my jacket?”
She angled her head to look at him. “Trying for chivalry?”
“Something like that. But I am hoping you say no.”
“And if I say yes?”
“I would hand over my coat, reluctantly. And probably hightail it back inside.”
She laughed and felt the irritation and anger fading away. “You are such a jerk.”
“That I am.” He nodded solemnly. “Forgiven?”
She nodded and hunkered down further in the not-very-adequate coat.
“Race you back?”
“What?” The word was hardly out of her mouth before he was sprinting away.
“I am not—"Throwing up her arms, she followed suit. As much as she put some power into her sprint, she was not able to catch up to his long legs that seemed to eat up the ground. By the time she arrived at the door, he was holding it open for her and she was practically wheezing.
“You cheated.”
“And you are winded.” Taking her hand, he dragged her inside and shut the doors. “Let me get this.” He unbuttoned her coat and took it off her, hanging it on the many limbs of the coat tree in the parlor.
“I need to catch my breath.” She pressed a hand against her stomach. “And thanks for the heads up.” She gave him a baleful glance.
“I bet you are not cold anymore.”
“Nevertheless—"She led the way into the kitchen. “I am going to make hot chocolate and we can sit by the fire in the living room.”
“Sounds like a plan. What can I do?”
“Grab some mugs.” She studied the half-finished meal. “We should wash up.”
“I told you I have a cleaning service.”
“Good, because I hate doing dishes. Should we dump them in the sink?”
“Leave them there. The clean fairy will come while we are sleeping and take care of it.”
He grinned at her.
“Very funny.” She went over to the large pantry and opened the doors. “Cocoa. Change of plans and— oh! Cinnamon. Hot cocoa instead and—”Going over to the fridge, she checked out the contents. “There is pie.”
“What kind?”
“I think it’s lemon meringue—"She squealed, the unexpected sound coming from her almost had him dropping the mugs. “It is lemon meringue. My favorite.”
