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Peering through the peephole, I’m shocked to see Hayden standing outside.
His chestnut hair is tousled, and he’s wearing dark jeans and an untucked pale blue dress shirt. He’s also holding two large brown paper bags, one in each hand, and he has what looks to be a magnum of champagne tucked in the crook of his arm.
Surprised but happy to see him, I swing open the door. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” he says as he switches the bags to one hand and slides the champagne bottle down to his free one. Holding it up—whoa, it’s Dom Perignon—he says, “Surprise! I hope you haven’t eaten yet. I brought us Thanksgiving dinner and some bubbly to wash it down.”
The savory aromas of the food waft up to my nose, and I am happier than ever that he’s here.
“Wow, Hayden, this is awesome!” I bounce up and down on my pink-ballerina-flat-clad toes. “I am freaking starving,” I confess. “In fact, I was just about to make a stupid cold sandwich. But this is so much better.” I step aside. “Come on in.”
He walks in, and we start toward the kitchen.
But I stop halfway there and turn to where he’s following me.
His eyes fly up to my face, as if I didn’t just catch him checking out my ass.
Funny, I don’t mind a bit. I’m as guilty as he is, as I’m always sneaking in glances at him.
I wonder if he ever notices.
Acting as if I have no idea what he was up to, I get to why I stopped in the first place, asking, “This is a holiday, right?”
He lets out a relieved breath, then kind of peers at me curiously. “Yeah, it is. Why? What are you thinking?”
“Well…” I cross my arms. “Forget the kitchen. I think we should eat in the dining room.” I gesture to the room next to where we’re stopped. “You head in there now. Take the food out and put it on the table. While you’re doing that, I’ll go grab the nicer plates from the kitchen. Let’s make this meal special.”
“Sounds good to me,” he says, chuckling. Then he reminds me, “Don’t forget champagne flutes.”
I give him a thumbs-up as I start to step away. “Don’t worry, I’m on it.”
A short while later, Hayden and I are seated across from each other at the dining room table, feasting on roasted turkey breast, herb-infused dressing, creamy whipped potatoes covered in a savory gravy, string beans, and cranberry sauce.
“Everything is so delicious,” I remark as I dip my fork into my mashed potatoes. “Did you nab this food from the dinner the team hosted?”
“No.” Hayden shakes his head as he cuts a piece off from the extra-large hunk of turkey breast on his plate. “I put in an order earlier this week, after you texted that you were sticking around town. I placed it with one of the nicer restaurants that was offering takeout today. I figured if we were stuck in town, we may as well enjoy a nice Thanksgiving dinner together.”
“Mmm…” I spear a string bean. “This is nice. It’s all delicious too. I really appreciate you sharing with me.”
“Of course, Addison.” His eyes meet mine. “There isn’t anyone else I’d care to share Thanksgiving with this year.”
Wow.
My heart skips a beat.
Looking away, I take a quick sip of champagne and ask him quietly, “Do you really mean that, Hayden?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
Now my heart is pounding.
There’s something happening here.
Holding up my flute, I share, “I feel the same way. So here’s to what has turned into a really great friendship.”
Our eyes meet again, and we both know this is turning into something more. That attraction we felt at the beginning, even when we hated each other, hasn’t burned out.
No, it’s ignited into something stronger, something that, one of these days, is sure to combust.
