Chapter Seven

Barrett

We had, well, at least I had the best night ever. I hoped my neighbor did too. Not only was the party fun with lots of snacks and crafts and little singing Christmas songs in their most adorable holiday onesies and tees, but I spent the evening with the little I’d been crushing on since the first time I saw him. And he seemed to like me, too.

I’d every much wanted to give him a ride home, but he didn’t say anything to indicate he felt the same way, and I didn’t want him to feel suffocated after such a nice time. We were after all next-door neighbors and I’d never do anything to make him uncomfortable. Strangers could walk away if they decided to but we saw one another every day.

I went inside to find Pearly bouncing on their hind legs in greeting. I’d found them at a shelter adoption event a few years before, a sad little ball of fur who might or might not be the cockapoo I was told they were. Not that I cared in the slightest, of course. My pup was the best dog in the history of the universe and that’s why they slept on my pillow next to me most nights and why I cooked homemade dog food for them.

Pearly’s age was unknown, but the vet always congratulated me on their good health. And suggested a pound or two less might be perfect. She chose to disagree. Reaching for her leash with one hand, I patted her head with the other. “Settle down, sweetie, or I can’t get your leash attached.” When I first got them that had indeed been a thing. But now we had an understanding, and all four feet landed on the floor at the same time, head held still for me to click that hook into the loop.

It was cold and starry outside, winter coming soon, but I’d put Pearly’s sweater on and I wore my warm coat, and we strolled down the street a couple of blocks then turned back. As we were nearing the driveway, Kent rolled up and into his parking spot.

He got out of the car and waited for us to approach. “Hi, Kent.” He wore jeans and a jacket, a far cry from the holiday onesie, tiny shorts and knee socks he’d worn in the little room. He looked great in both outfits. “Good to see you at the club tonight.”

“You too.” He looked down at his shoe, sketching a circle on the ground then up to meet my eyes. “I had a very nice time.”

“Me, too.”

“Even with the cocoa.” He’d expressed dismay that they were out. “I’m sure they’ll have it next time.”

Kent nodded. “They usually have it for little events. It’s very good, which is why it goes fast.”

“I can imagine.” I did not want to go inside, to have the evening end. I’d thought it was over when I drove home, but now it seemed full of promise again.

“I have cocoa,” he said. “Would you like some?”

I’d drink mud to spend another hour with him, but since I liked cocoa, this was even better. “Sure. I have to put Pearly inside, and then I’ll be over.”

“Do you think your dog…do you think Pearly would like to come too?” he asked. “They ae invited.”

“I’m sure they’d love that.” Almost as much as I would.

“But I don’t have anything for the pup.” He frowned, brows coming down together. “Do you think they’d like a slice of apple with peanut butter on it?”

“We have to cut it small because little mouth but absolutely. Very good choice.”

I followed him up to his doorstep and into the house where once again I was reminded of my mom and her love of the holiday. I usually did a little bit, a small tree, some lights, but I’d always gone home for Christmas, even since Dad remarried so I figured why do a lot of decorating when I wouldn’t even be there on the day.

That was not true for this year, though, was it? I’d have to step up my game although I could not hope to compete with the setup I walked into. On this second trip inside Kent’s home, I took my time and admired each bit of his seasonal displays. Often someone who decorated this much made it look like a mish-mash, but each thing he set up here had purpose and worked with all the rests to create a harmonious whole.

“Come back into the kitchen with me?” Kent continued toward the back of the house. “I will get things started.”

He had me sit at the counter while he got out a pot and a gallon of milk. “You don’t do it with an envelope of powder stuff?” Like I did.

“Oh no.” His frown was as adorable as his smile. “That stuff is full of weird ingredients, but mostly it just doesn’t taste as good. Haven’t you ever had scratch cocoa?”

I had not. But watching him at work, I never wanted to have it made any other way. He warmed milk and whisked in cocoa powder, sugar, and a pinch of salt. Then, at the very end, a splash of vanilla extract. “If you add it too soon, the flavor doesn’t hold up.”

“You’re a cocoa pro,” I said in full admiration. “I will never be able to enjoy the kind in my cabinet again. Or at the club?”

“They make extra specially good hot chocolate there,” he assured me. “That’s why it goes so fast.”

He set two mugs on the counter an brought over the saucepan to pour it into them. But when I reached for the handle, he whisked it out of reach. “Tsk. Not yet. It’s not ready.”

“Looks pretty amazing to me.”

“Hang on.” Kent went to the refrigerator and got out a can of whipped cream then pulled a tray of toppings from a cabinet. “I have several flavors of cocoa but I went with dark chocolate tonight. And I didn’t put in the usual spoonful of espresso powder because I didn’t want you to be awake all night.”

Considerate too!

When he set the tray down in front of me, I was stunned by all the options. He had small containers of sprinkles of all the Christmas colors including silver and gold dragées. Marshmallows. And edible glitter. That stuff had always scared me a little. And so much more. “You don’t want the artificial ingredients in add-water cocoa but these are…”

“One hundred percent natural,” he said. “Expensive and hard to find, but worth it.”

And so much fun to play with. I was not usually into playing with my food, but decorating our drinks was a major hoot. He had homemade chocolate and caramel drizzles too. And, even under all those toppings, it was the best cocoa ever.

When we finished, we cleaned up because I was not going to leave him all alone to do that. It wasn’t a big mess, probably because Kent used restraint with glitter. I wondered if that was the case when he played with the real kind at Chained. If so, he’d be the first little I’d seen act that way. Usually a glitter craft was more like a glitter cloud.

I walked over to the window. “Kent, it’s snowing.”

“Oh.” He peeked past me and outside. “Want to know the best thing about snow?”

“I do, sure.”

I put Pearly’s coat back on and we all went outside where the two humans collected snow on our tongues while the dog watched us with a skeptical gaze. She fussed and I had to take her inside, so we said good night.