Page 49 of First Bride to Fall
He chuckled. “Maybe you should do something else?”
She nodded and turned back around, reaching for her purse, which sat on the floor beside her. This year, she finally was going to give Grant the birthday present she’d made him. In person, and he was going to love it. She could tell. He’d admired the hat after he’d joked around with it, trying it on. He didn’t know it was for him then, but he’d learn that soon enough.
Just five more days.
She’d never celebrated a birthday with a boyfriend before; if they became an item by then, this would be a first. She’d even bake him a cake! Then her hint to her sisters about them being exclusive would become an actual fact. That would give her three more weeks to work on the getting-engaged part. Assuming he even fell for her in the first place, and then didn’t bolt the moment he learned about Aidan.
She owned a cute country cottage by a cranberry bog. Grant would probably like it a lot, since it was out in nature and not smack-dab in the center of town. She knew he rented a small house near his store. That was on the outskirts of Majestic, too, conveniently not too far from Nell’s. She could ask him over for a birthday dinner on the seventh. After this time spent together at his cabin, then their date at Mariner’s—which she now knew for sure was happening—the invitation to her place would be like icing on the cake.
Once she told him about her parents losing Bearberry Brews and their house, he’d surely understand why she and her sisters had made that extreme bet. The wager hadn’t been undertaken lightly but out of desperate necessity. By the time she told him about it, she hoped he’d be too invested in her to be angry that she’d not been totally honest when he asked why she signed up for the hike now and not before. And hopefully he’d not break her heart by leaving her to Aidan. Only time would tell on that one, and she knew she had to be prepared to face the consequences if things didn’t work out.
She sighed and examined her project, deciding in her heart that she was going to give Grant this hat one way or another and tell him how she felt—how she’d always felt—about him. The bet had just been the kick in the pants she’d needed to reach out. She hoped that he’d be pleased and return her feelings, but if he didn’t, she would just have to deal with that harsh reality and move on. She lifted her knitting needles and got to work, dreaming up all the other things she could make Grant, in the event of the happiest outcome.
Maybe she could try a cardigan again? She could knit one to match the hat. A knitted scarf, too. Nell grinned at another idea. She could make a matching set for herself. His and hers knitted outfits that they could wear at the cabin when they took their couple’s getaways. Her heart warmed at the precious image she painted in her mind:
Grant in his knits, appearing extra handsome with wisps of his wavy blond hair peeking out from under his birthday hat. He had a thick, warm scarf wrapped around his neck and wore a buttoned cardigan sweater over a turtleneck and jeans. He hugged her from behind, leaning forward, and Nell giggled, glancing over her shoulder into his adoring dark eyes. With her knitted hat, scarf, and cardigan being carbon copies of his, they’d look just like models on an adorable Christmas card, or a book cover, even. A romance novel cover, no question.
They’d have to take a selfie of that for sure.
“How are the lima beans holding up?” Grant asked, bursting her fantasy bubble.
Nell stared at her ankle, which was propped on a pillow on the chest and had a bag of frozen lima beans on it this time. The corn had long since given up the fight.
“Pretty well,” she said. “My ankle’s actually feeling a little better.”
“Good. That’s great to hear.” He laid the fish in the frying pan, and oil sizzled. A mild fishy aroma wafted toward her. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was sort of gamey. It smelled different from other fish Nell had tried before. “I hope you don’t mind skipping the veggies tonight. We don’t have a ton on hand, so we should probably save them for medicinal purposes.”
She laughed. Kids everywhere would love that excuse for getting out of their dinner veggies. Maybe if this worked out the way she hoped, there’d be a little Grant or a little Nell claiming a higher purpose for their veggies someday.
…
The evening got dreamier when Grant announced it was time to eat.
She hobbled over to the table.
“Everything looks so nice.”
“My lady.” He gallantly pulled back her chair, then helped scoot her in once she sat down. Afterward, he propped her leg on another chair using a pillow. He handed her two ibuprofen, and she took them with the water he’d already put on the table.
“You’re being very attentive,” she said with a flirty edge, and he noticed.
“That’s because you need tending to.” He smiled, and her stomach fluttered. “We’ll add more ice in twenty minutes.”
She’d never had anyone treat her this way. Just like the royal princess she’d imagined back when she’d assumed her mother’s announcement about Aidan was a joke. After a lifetime of taking care of her sisters and putting everyone else first, being pampered was a feeling she could get used to.
He set a dinner dish down in front of her. It held a mound of French fries and a huge portion of fish that stretched across the width of her plate. Thank goodness the fish’s head had been removed, but it still had its tail attached. Nell’s stomach roiled. The closest she’d come to eating a whole fish before was fish and chips, and that was cut up in pieces and heavily floured and fried. You could even have mistaken it for chicken nuggets, if it hadn’t tasted so nasty.
This specimen in front of her definitely looked like a fish, not poultry. A completely decapitated fish at that. A wave of queasiness crashed over her. Still, Grant had worked hard to prepare dinner, so she couldn’t very well turn up her nose at it without seeming ungrateful. Since she couldn’t very well hold her nose, maybe she could stealthily hold her breath when she swallowed. He probably wouldn’t notice.
He’d set ketchup, tartar sauce, and some of that cut lemon on the table. Good. She’d use lots of those, and maybe they’d cover the fish taste. Grant served his plate and dimmed the kitchen lights a little. Flickering light trailed into the kitchen from the woodstove, and the candle’s flame danced between them.
He’d gone to extra trouble to make this meal special, and she appreciated his efforts, so she’d do her best to get behind the meal choice.
“The fish looks great,” she said politely as he sat down. “Thank you.”
He issued a word of caution. “You need to be a bit careful when you chew. It’s tasty but it can be bony. Let me show you a little trick.”
He picked up his fork and grabbed hold of his fish’s tail with his other hand, while the fried fish laid sideways on his plate. “Just lift the tail,” he instructed, “and stick your fork into the underside like so.” He did this, pinning the bottom part of his fish in place.
