11. Chapter 11

Since Kane is obviously some kind of amazing chef who also fucking bakes, his offer to ride the property line and check on things was the opportunity I needed to buy myself more time to make something better than microwave cocoa. Inside the kitchen, I peer out the window overlooking the deck. Kane’s red beanie sticks out against the stark white terrain. Snow coats every surface and it’s so cold that even the water in the air is freezing, making it appear as if it’s snowing when it’s really not. Down to business, though. I have enough time, but I don’t have extra time to get lost in my thoughts about snow and ice crystals. My phone dings on the counter, but rather than check my message, I tap open the internet and type in a quick search for homemade hot cocoa. I click on a few different recipes to compare methods. It’s actually a lot easier than I realized. I just need milk, chocolate, and vanilla.

Time to hunt through the kitchen. I find the vanilla with the baking supplies easily. I also happen upon some fancy chocolates in the same cupboard. They look like they were handmade, likely by Kane. They are wrapped in clear cellophane bags, sealed, and each one has a Christmas-themed tag identifying the type of chocolate inside tied around it with a red or green ribbon. Holy shit! This guy really goes all out, and he wasn’t kidding about being good at his job. I examine each of the bags, but one in particular catches my eye. White chocolate, peppermint bark. Perfect for Candy Cane Cocoa, it says. I chuckle softly. That’s pretty cute.

Perfect for cocoa. This will surely score me some points with Kane. I snatch the peppermint bark and then grab milk from the fridge. On the stove, I warm a saucepan on low and place several large pieces of peppermint bark in it to melt. Then I go in search of toppings and retrieve the whipped cream from the fridge. From the baking cupboard I grab mini marshmallows, and from the card on the counter I pull off the peppermint candy cane taped to the front. Using a glass from the cupboard, I smash the candy cane into tiny decorative pieces for the top. All the while I check the chocolate, stirring it as needed before looking out the window, watching for Kane to return. Once the chocolate melts, I slowly pour in the milk like the directions say, and add the vanilla extract. Then I stir slowly until it’s smooth and creamy. There’s still no sign of Kane, so I turn the burner down to the fancy low-melt temperature on the knob and throw another log on the fire. I’ve kept it burning since I arrived and I’m not the least bit ashamed to admit it. Before I sit down to curl up on the sectional, I peek out the window, searching for a little red dot.

Instead of spotting his hat, I’m surprised to see his ATV parked in the yard near the stairs of the deck. That was fast. He must be grabbing the firewood I asked him about. Instead of wrapping up in a blanket, I scurry to the kitchen to check on the cocoa and stir it. All the toppings are lined up on the island, waiting for assembly. There are a variety of cup options, too, since I’m not sure if he intends to stay for cocoa, or if he’s planning to use a to-go cup. I don’t want to make this into something it’s not—but a holiday romance is exactly what I’m looking for and I would literally do anything to live out that fantasy.

A knock on the glass patio door makes me jump. I turn around quickly, then breathe a sigh of relief when I realize it’s just Kane holding several bundles of firewood and another pile by his feet. My cheeks flush with embarrassment over my reaction to his knocking. I walk over and unlock the door. Up close, he’s even more overwhelming.

The man is huge. His muscular arms and shoulders are broad, and his stance fills the entire doorway. I stare at him for a moment taking everything about him in from the way his chestnut-colored hair peeks out from beneath his beanie, to his perfectly shaped lips—full in all the right places—the kind that are irresistible and feel like heaven when they kiss you. He’s tall, too, easily over six and a half feet. This man is definitely large enough he could overpower me if he wanted to, but there’s something about the twinkle in his eyes and the laid back tone of his voice that makes me feel at ease.

“Mind if I bring these in for you?” He asks, interrupting my silent assessment.

My cheeks flush. “Yes, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. You’re just so different from what I was expecting.”

Kane chuckles. “Yeah, I get that reaction a lot. When people think of caretakers, and maintenance men, I’m not exactly sure what they conjure up.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just, well, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No need to be sorry. But I need to set this down.”

“Of course.” I step aside, allowing him to squeeze in through the door.

He sets the first bundle inside on the rubber mat next to the door, then goes back out for the other pile. This time, he slips off his shoes and walks to the fireplace. He moves around as if he owns the place. At first it feels a little weird, but then I remember he said he was friends with my uncle, and obviously he takes care of the property, so it makes sense that he would know where everything is. I watch him mindlessly stirring the cocoa. He’s everything a woman could dream of in a holiday romance—tall, handsome, and muscular. I bet he has a six-pack under all those layers. Kane’s charming and bearded, plus he knows his way around a kitchen. Where has he been all my life? Don’t do this, Hazel. Don’t get attached to a fantasy idea of a romance. Besides, someone as attractive as him is probably married.

While I try to get a look at his hands for a wedding ring, Kane goes about his business, putting the wood away and rebuilding the fire. At first I’m offended, because how dare he insult my fire-building skills, but then I figure he’s just a nice guy, probably trying to be helpful. Maybe I need to relax. The poor guy might be lonely for all I know.

“Hey, so are there any big plans today?” I ask him, in an attempt at casual conversation.

“Nothing too out of the ordinary. How about you?” He asks.

I shrug my shoulders. “Nothing major, I’ll probably watch a Christmas movie, explore my uncle’s office a little. Maybe find a good book to curl up with and try out the glass room with the other fireplace.”

“Well, doesn’t that sound like the perfect day? Don’t let me forget to leave you some of those cookies I baked. I make them on the healthier side with extra proteins baked in.” He flexes his muscles. “Ya know, gotta stay fit in this line of work.” He winks playfully.

“Would you like to stay for a movie with the cocoa?” Crap, the words slipped out of my mouth and I can’t take them back. What am I doing?

He smiles at me. “That’s really nice of you—“

I interrupt him before he can finish. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sure you’re married, or have a girlfriend, and I don’t mean it like that. I just…I over share sometimes, and my mom has always said I’m too nice to people, and oh god now I’m rambling.”

I clap my hands over my mouth, mortified. OMG, Hazel, you’re a fucking idiot. It was a wonder you landed a guy like Tyler—or maybe it wasn’t since he turned out to be fake perfect. Stop it. I think I’m losing my fucking mind. This man is making me crazy and awkward. Why am I like this, and how is it fair to blame him? I really need to get a grip.

Kane laughs and wow, his laugh is incredible. “It’s okay, I’m also a bit on the neurospicy side. But nope, no girlfriend or wife to be jealous. I was going to say I would love to, but only if I get to pick.”

I laugh nervously. “Great, make yourself comfortable and pick a movie. I’m pretty sure my uncle has every channel and subscriptions to every streaming service imaginable. I’ll grab the cocoa. Are you okay with marshmallows, whipped cream, and candy canes?”

“Hazel, I’m okay with anything, as long as it tastes good.”

I’m not sure why the way he says my name sends a tingle through my core, but it does, and I can’t help but imagine this turning into an adorable meet-cute story.