Page 52 of First Bride to Fall
“Do you watch shows?” she asked. “So many great ones right now.”
“Let me guess…” He shot her a teasing stare, and she playfully lowered her eyebrows.
“Don’t judge me. I watch lots of shows. Comedies. Thrillers.”
“Yeah, there are some good ones. Especially those Nordic mysteries.”
“No way.” She grinned. “I watch those, too!”
They discussed a number of series, discovering they watched a lot of the same shows, including British police procedurals.
“Wait.” He held up his hand. “I still haven’t seen the last episode, so don’t spoil the ending.”
“You’re up to the trial?”
“Yeah,” he said. “A real cliff-hanger.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll wait for you to see it, and you can tell me what you think. I kind of guessed the ending, because the chief inspector—”
“Nell, stop,” he said, chuckling.
“Oops. Sorry.” She’d been carried away with the storyline. Her sisters didn’t watch any of the same things she did, so it was fun having someone to gush over her favorite police procedurals with. While Nell didn’t enjoy the grisly crime aspect, the shows she watched tended to leave any actual violence off-screen. It was the solving of the crimes that intrigued her, almost like working a puzzle—or carefully strategizing her next Scrabble move.
Is this how it’d always be with Grant? If so, a marriage with him would be wonderful. They’d laugh together and joke about puns and go on nature hikes—because shewouldget better at them. He could teach her how to camp. She could teach him how to win at Scrabble. Against other people, at least, because no way was she giving up her title. There’d be many more rainbows in their future. It was okay if she didn’t like trout. He didn’t like crunchy peanut butter. Or coffee. That wasn’t any sort of deal breaker.
He started to clear the table, and Nell felt awkward doing nothing. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me help put things away?”
“You, little lady, are not to lift a finger.” He motioned toward the sofa. “Go on over there and get comfortable. I’ll join you in a bit.”
…
Grant scoured his frying pan, chuckling at Nell’s reaction to eating trout. He got that it wasn’t her favorite, but she’d been too polite to let on. Still, after her hiking and camping embellishments, he couldn’t help but give her a hard time. As for the fish itself, he understood that game fish wasn’t for everyone. Nothing tasted better to him than when it was cooked right on the spot near where he’d caught it.
His dad had taught him fly-fishing when he was about eight. In those days, his dad still liked the outdoors. When his dad lost his factory job, though, he started to sour on a lot of things, including recreational activities. His dad’s primary recreational activity became booze.
Grant dried and put away the frying pan and cookie sheet, and he turned to handwashing the dinner dishes next. His cabin was basic, so he didn’t have a dishwasher. Most times, he didn’t really need one, since he was up here by himself.
He glanced over at Nell, and she seemed happy, knitting on the sofa by the fire, and her presence made his rustic retreat seem more like a home. He did wish his mom could have met Nell. She would have loved his cabin, too, appreciating its seclusion and gorgeous nature views. Unlike his dad, Grant’s mom had never lost her love for the outdoors or adventure.
He finished with the dishes, putting them away after they were washed and dried, then called out to Nell. “Want more tea?”
“Sure!” She started to stand, but he stopped her.
“I’ll fix it. Then I’ll come and sit with you by the fire.”
Her whole face colored. “That would be nice.”
Yeah, it would.
Chapter Eleven
Nell sat on the sofa sipping her tea while Grant relaxed nearby in his armchair.
She wished she could think of a way to get him to come and sit with her. “I can make room?” she said, scooting over. “If you want to move a little closer to the fire.”
Awkward. But there. She’d said it.
Grant studied her a beat, but then he smiled. “All right.”
