Page 55 of Floored (Frenched 3)
“Hey, look. The tree lights are on.”
We stopped to look at the city’s towering evergreen Christmas tree, lit with thousands of multi-colored lights. I shivered, and Charlie pulled me back against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “Cold?” he asked.
“Uh…a little.” OK, what the hell was he doing now? This didn’t seem like just friends territory. Then again, I was new to this fuck friend thing. Maybe in addition to the main course, you got a few side dishes too, like holding hands and the occasional cuddle. It was nice, actually. I leaned back against him, and he gave me a squeeze.
“Thanks for coming skating. I know you didn’t want to.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And I’m sorry I didn’t call you last weekend. I wanted to.”
I froze. What what what? He was apologizing for not calling me? “That’s OK. I wasn’t expecting you to.”
“I know you weren’t.”
I swallowed. Don’t be sweet to me, Charlie. You’ll ruin everything. “Should we go eat?”
Charlie’s idea was to grab carryout from PizzaPapalis and take it back to my place. “You don’t want to eat here?” I asked, happy to be out of the cold.
“We could, but I have something else for you in the car, and I want to give it to you.” He tapped my nose. “You’re getting all kinds of presents today, Red.”
I swatted his hand away and gave him a girlish smile. “I do love presents.”
“How did I know that about you?”
After a brief argument about what to order on our pizza—Charlie wanted four different kinds of meat and I prefer veggies—we settled for a deep dish Spinach Special with bacon and an Antipasto salad.
Back at my house, I stuck the pizza in the oven to keep it warm and took out plates, salad bowls, silverware, and napkins. Charlie went out to the car again, and when he came back in he carried an armload of firewood.
I gasped, clapping my hands together. “You brought wood!”
“My wood excites you, I know.”
I slapped him on the shoulder as he went by, but my pulse quickened at the innuendo. Humming a Christmas tune, I pulled two wine glasses from the cupboard and didn’t even complain when he left giant wet footprints on my kitchen floor. I just wiped them up.
“Got any newspaper?” he called from the front room.
I had an old Grosse Pointe News in my recycle bin, which I brought him along with long match sticks. “Here. I bought these in case I figured out how to do this. I even have the pokery tool things.” I gestured toward the little rack.
“Pokery tool things?” Smiling, he shook his head. “Let’s move your table and couch a little further away from the fireplace, OK?”
As we were moving the furniture, I had an idea. While Charlie rolled up newspaper and laid it in the bottom of the grate, I ran upstairs and got a big cream-colored fleece blanket from my hallway linen closet. Down in the front room, I dragged the coffee table further out of the way and spread the blanket out on the floor a few feet away from the fireplace. “I thought we could have a picnic,” I said.
“Sounds good.” Kneeling, Charlie piled the firewood on top of the paper and reached for the matches.
Within minutes, the fire crackled with warmth and light and I applauded Charlie’s efforts, sitting back on my heels. ?
?Yay, fire!”
He closed the screen and turned to me, an amused expression on his face. “You are easily impressed.”
“Listen, don’t ruin this for me. Ever since I bought this place, I’ve been dreaming of a real fire in my fireplace on a cold night. And now I have one, so shut up and let me enjoy it, you big bully.”
He cocked his head, looked at me sideways. “You better be nice or I’ll put it out.”
I gasped. “You wouldn’t. Not after I so obligingly went ice skating with you on our non-date and fell flat on my ass.”
He grinned. “How’s your tailbone?”
