Page 42 of First Bride to Fall
He opened a cabinet and produced a jar of honey, placing it on the table with a spoon. “I also have lemons.” Lemon with honey and pumpkin sounded kind of good, a tempting fall-like blend.
“Yeah?”
“In the refrigerator. They have a long shelf life, and I use them sometimes when I’m making fish.”
“Other than fish, what do you cook?”
“Grilled stuff, mostly.”
“Do you have a grill here?”
“Actually, I do. It’s in the storage closet off the back stoop.” He hadn’t used that grill in a long while—not since the last time Susan was here. If Nell was staying longer as a girlfriend and not just overnight as an emergency houseguest, he’d be tempted to lay in groceries and make her a nice sirloin steak. Maybe if they started dating, he could do that another time. He’d already invited her out to Mariner’s, and he looked forward to making that happen.
He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a lemon. “Yes or no?”
“Sure, but only if you’re going to cut it anyway.”
“I was going to do that later for dinner,” he said. “So, might as well.”
He removed a small cutting board from a drawer, along with a serrated knife, and sliced into the lemon, releasing a burst of citrusy scent into the air. He offered Nell a lemon wedge, and she squeezed its juice into her mug with a spoonful of honey, preparing her tea. He did the same when he joined her at the table.
They both took careful sips of the steaming liquid.
“This place is very cute.” She glanced around the cabin. “Homey with the fire going in the woodstove.”
“Yeah. I make sure to keep lots of firewood on hand. Especially in the fall and winter.”
“I bet it’s freezing up here in December.”
He chuckled, thinking of ways to keep her warm. Like wrapping his arms around her and snuggling down under the covers. But he didn’t want to push her or take advantage of the situation. “I’ve got lots of heavy blankets.”
Her eyes darted toward the bedroom, and she blushed.
“But don’t worry about that for now. The temps are mild enough, and you’re getting the bed,” he said to reassure her. “I’ll take the sofa.”
“Oh no. I can’t let you—”
“Nell,” he said. “I offered. Besides that, we can keep your ankle better elevated in the bed.” He studied her sympathetically. “How’s it feeling?”
“Still hurts a little.”
“We’ll give you more meds with dinner. In the meantime, we’ll keep icing it.”
He slid the Scrabble game over and removed the lid. Then he lifted out the turntable-style board and put it on the table between them. It was made of heavy plastic, and each game square was partitioned off by shallow sides, made to hold each tile in place so it wouldn’t slide.
“Cool board. Where did you get it?”
“It was my mom’s. We had it when I was growing up.”
She lightly touched its edge, making it pivot. “Nice. It rotates around?”
“Very handy.” He nodded. “Especially in cutthroat games.”
“So you play cutthroat games, huh?”
“Okay, I’ll admit it.” He grinned. “I’m competitive.”
“Oh yeah?” She grinned, too, and his heart thumped. “Well, so am I.” She looked like she wanted to say something more. “Grant, about that—”
