Chapter 5

Marley had chicken stewing on the stove and would make dumplings later. She had biscuits in the oven for breakfast and was frying sausage when she heard Trey coming down the stairs. At the same time, she began hearing the roar of a snowmobile and rolled her eyes. That would be Jack, coming to make sure she was still alive and kicking with the stranger under the roof. She looked up as Trey walked into the kitchen, ignored the skip in her heartbeat, and smiled.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Best night’s sleep I’ve had in years. What smells so good, and what’s that noise outside?”

“You smell chicken stewing, biscuits baking, and sausage frying. Eggs coming up, and the noise is likely Jack on his snowmobile, coming to make sure you didn’t murder me in my sleep.”

Trey blinked, startled by the accusation, and then realized she was grinning.

“You’re teasing, right?” he said.

She laughed. “Mostly. He always comes to make sure I’m not in any kind of distress, but he’s also nosy enough to want to see what you look like, too.”

“That’s fair,” Trey said, and pointed to the plate of little sausages links already cooked. “May I snitch?”

“Better snitch fast before Jack walks in. No matter what Wanda feeds him at their house, whenever he walks into this kitchen, he has to graze on what’s coming out of the oven, too.”

“Smart man,” Trey said, as he picked up a sausage with his fingers and took a bite. “Good stuff,” he said, and moved to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“No, but thank you,” she said, and grabbed a potholder to take the biscuits out of the oven. “You had scrambled eggs last night. Wanna try them fried this morning, or maybe poached?”

“Fried is good. Over easy,” he said, and then the roar of the snowmobile ended.

“And…Jack has arrived,” she said.

Moments later, they heard the back door open, then the stomp of boots in the utility room as Jack kicked off the snow before striding into the kitchen.

Jack eyed the man standing beside the work island with a sausage link in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, nodded cordially, then eyed Marley.

“Mornin’, Bug. Do I smell biscuits?”

“Morning, Jack,” she said and pointed to the cooling rack. “I just took them out of the oven.”

He eyed the pan of hot biscuits with glee. “I’ll be needin’ some butter. Got any of that apple butter you put back?”

“Yes, but introductions first. Jack, this is Trey Austin, from Phoenix, Arizona. Trey, this is Jack Wallis. He and his wife, Wanda, work here, but they’re also all the family I have.”

Trey wiped his fingers and held out his hand. “A pleasure, sir, but what did you call Marley?”

“Bug. Her daddy, Dan, called her Ladybug from the time she could walk. I guess because she was so little. Over the years, it got shortened to Bug. Everybody who grew up with her calls her Bug.”

Trey eyed the flush on Marley ‘s cheeks and nodded. “I think I’ll stick with Marley. I can’t call the angel who saved my life a bug.”

Jack grinned, and Marley burst out laughing, then scooted the butter and jam within Jack’s reach.

“Trey, feel free to indulge right along with Jack. I have eggs to fry.”

Jack eyed the eggs she was cracking into the skillet. “If you fry one up for me, make it hard. I’ll make a sandwich with it out of my next biscuit.”

“It’s a good thing Wanda isn’t here. She’d be fussing at you for eating two breakfasts again. What did she make for you this morning?”

“Bacon and pancakes…but you know how those pancakes are. They don’t stay with you long.”

Trey grinned. He liked Jack Wallis. And he liked Marley Bug. Even if he wasn’t going to call her that.

Marley finally steered the men to the table, put the food in front of them, then ate in delighted silence while they talked and ate. What she noticed most was how intently Trey guided the conversation away from anything personal about himself, while still being open and congenial. Obviously, he didn’t want the world to know his connections to the Austin empire, and she secretly admired him for not crowing about it or making himself the topic of conversation.

While they were still eating, Marley’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. “Excuse me, but I’m answering this,” she said. “Hi, Wanda. Yes, Jack got here just fine. Yes, he’s eating breakfast again. Everything is fine. Trey got here well after eleven last night. I think he had a pretty hairy trip, but he made it, for which we are all thankful. Do you want to speak to Jack?”

Jack was shaking his head, waving his hands to indicate a “no,” and swallowing his last bite of biscuit.

Marley frowned at him because Wanda was still talking and listening, and then she finally commented. “Don’t worry, Wanda. I’ll tell him, and I’ll let you know when he starts home. Love you, too.”

She laid the phone down and frowned. “Jack Wallis. You told her you were going to see how the roads were?”

“Now, Bug… You know I don’t lie to Wanda. She just wasn’t clear about what I said. I meant these roads right here,” he said. “And I’m not getting the tractor with the snowblade out just yet, unless you have a need.”

“We do not have a need,” Marley said. “But you do. You need to go home. Wanda went out to gather eggs and said something tried to get into the henhouse last night, so you have some patching up to do.”

Jack got up from the table, frowning. “Oh lord. Hope they didn’t get any of my hens. I’ll just check the generator and the perimeter here to make sure everything is okay and carry in some firewood for you. That way you won’t have far to go out on the back porch in the snow to get it. Trey, it was nice to meet you. I trust you two will be okay, and if you’re not, just call. I never mind an excuse to ride the snowmobile.”

“Thank you, Jack. You are the best,” Marley said.

Jack hugged her. “You’re welcome, sugar.” He gave Trey one last look, and then left the same way he’d come in.

It was when the old man hugged Marley that the reality of what Trey was feeling finally hit. He wanted to hug her, too, but he didn’t have the right. So, he got up and helped her clear the table instead, while Jack made four trips through the lodge, adding to the stack of firewood on the hearth.

A short while later, they heard the snowmobile fire up, and when Jack rode off, Marley sent Wanda a text to let her know he was on the way home.

After that, they were alone again, and this time, the silence felt awkward. Something was changing between them. A familiarity was growing, but without aim. Neither of them knew what they wanted, or what to expect, but an expectation of more was apparent.

“Marley, if you have things you need to do, please don’t feel like I need to be entertained,” Trey said. “If I wasn’t here, what would you be doing now?”

She paused, thinking, and then waved her hand. “I like jigsaw puzzles. I usually keep one working for the guests. And I love to read and watch good movies. Want to see the family library? It’s something else.”

“I’d love to,” he said.

“Awesome, follow me,” she said, and led him to the great room and then to a wall of bookshelves filled with hundreds of books.

“Some of these editions date back to my great-grandparents’ and grandparents’ time. Some are Mom and Dad’s. And most of the books on the lower two shelves are mine. I’d probably be curled up in a chair by the fire, reading. Or fiddling with the jigsaw puzzle, or watching a movie.”

Trey immediately spotted three of his titles, and then the longer he looked, the more he saw. That’s when he realized that she had copies of almost all of them.

“I see you’re a mystery buff,” he said.

“It’s my favorite genre…that and romantic suspense. Sharon Sala, who also writes as Dinah McCall, is my absolute favorite writer in that genre, but Chapel Hill writes the best mysteries. Have you read any?”

He nodded. “Yes, I have. I read a lot.”

“I think I’ll save reading for later. If I get too quiet, I’ll get sleepy. I think I’m going to watch some TV. It’s game-show time.”

“Mind if I watch with you?” Trey asked.

“I would love it. I mostly entertain myself when I’m alone, so company is always welcome. You can guess prices with me. We’ll see who comes closest,” she said.

“What do I get if I win?” he asked.

She arched an eyebrow. “My undying gratitude for not saying ‘I told you so’?”

He laughed and sat down at one end of the sofa as she turned on the TV, found the channel with The Price Is Right , and then plopped down at the other end and curled her legs up beneath her.

By the time the show came to an end, they were yelling out prices, high-fiving each other when they got it right, chiding the contestants when they priced it too high or too low, and teasing each other when they were so far off the mark.

Marley had never been so happy, and Trey had never felt this at ease. No one was expecting anything from him. He didn’t have anything to prove to Marley Corbett, and yet she liked him. And that was scary. Because what if this was all just lighthearted fun to her? What if she was like this with all her guests?

She’d been special to him from the first sound of her voice, and the one glimpse he’d had of her walking away from him was seared in his memory. He accepted that part of those feelings started out as gratitude. But that was before he met her. Right now, he couldn’t put a name to what he was feeling, but it was way beyond gratitude. He knew that wanting more from her was almost selfish when she’d already given him back his life, but it was the truth.

When that game show ended, Marley handed him the remote.

“Help yourself to whatever,” she said. “I need to check on the chicken. We’re having chicken and dumplings for dinner tonight, and I want it falling-off-the-bone tender before I take it off the stove.”

Trey took the remote, but he was thinking about that dish. “I can’t remember the last time I had chicken and dumplings.”

“Comfort food. If you don’t want to watch TV, grab a book or whatever you feel the need to do. I promise I won’t bother you. I don’t bang too many pans, even when we’re up to our necks with hungry guests.”

“I will, and thank you. I might grab my laptop and check my email, maybe pay some bills while I’m here.”

“You know where everything is now, Trey. Make yourself at home. This place is my business, but it’s also my home, and it’s huge. I’m rarely here on my own, but when I am, it always makes me feel like the only potato in the bin. It’s nice to know there’s another human besides me beneath this roof.”

He was still smiling when she left the room. The only potato in the bin. That phrase would wind up in a book one day.

He went upstairs to get his laptop, brought it back down by the fire, and went through his email, paid the bills that were due, and then without thinking, pulled up his notes on his new mystery. He’d told Meredith he was taking the month off before beginning it, but not writing made him antsy, so he began sorting through the notes.

***

Marley was down in the basement doing laundry. She had a load in washing and another in the dryer. She’d already washed, dried, and folded a load of kitchen towels and dishcloths, and had just gotten off the elevator and was going to put them up when Trey suddenly appeared at her side.

“I wondered where you’d gotten off to. Should have known you’d be working. Let me carry that,” he said, and lifted the laundry basket out of her hands.

“Thanks,” Marley said, and led the way to the kitchen. “Just put it down on the work island. I’ll put them away.”

He did as she asked, stood for a moment watching as she began stacking the clean linens back into a big drawer, then walked to the windows and looked out at the snow.

“How many inches of snow do you think we got last night?” he asked.

“The weatherman said nearly a foot. If it snowed like this in Vail, they would be celebrating. The more snow they get, the better for business,” she said.

Trey shoved his hands in his pockets and turned around, trying to picture her flying down the ski slopes.

“Do you ski?”

“Oh sure, but I don’t have the time anymore. I’m not even sure where my skis are. Do you?”

He nodded. “It’s been a while,” he said, without explaining it had mostly been at Saint Moritz in the Swiss Alps.

As soon as she’d put away the towels, she set the basket out in the hall for a return trip down and glanced at the time. It was already after 1:00 p.m.

“I’m going to make sandwiches for lunch. Is that okay with you?” she asked.

“Anything you do is okay with me. Ever since I walked into the lodge, it’s made me feel like a kid in a candy store. Everywhere I look, there is something that delights me, and you’re the best part of it. I feel a bit like I just invited myself to a party, but I don’t have a lick of guilt for doing it,” he said.

“Actually, if you remember, you did get an invitation. I’m the one who invited you to stay here, but I sure didn’t mean for you to get trapped here.”

“This isn’t being trapped. This is the best holiday I’ve allowed myself to have in ages. I’m always alone, Marley, and certainly never with family. The last Christmas I spent with my parents was right before they sent me away to boarding school. I’d written a letter to Santa Claus, asking for a telescope. I like to look at the stars. I watched the nanny give the letter to my mother. She didn’t even look at it. Christmas morning, I got a baseball and a mitt. I don’t know what they were thinking, but at that point, I’d never played baseball. That same day, my mother told me there was no such thing as Santa Claus, which crushed my ten-year-old soul. So, thank you for this, more than you can know.”

There was a poignancy in his voice that she’d hadn’t heard before. He’d revealed something very personal about himself, and it hurt her heart to think of going through the world like that. Without saying a word, she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him.

Shock was followed by such a longing to take down her hair, tilt that pretty face up to him, and kiss her senseless. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back.

Marley’s heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation. She had two choices. Act on the impulse, or get her act together. So, she did the responsible thing, dropped her arms, and stepped away. She could chide herself about it later.

“Just for the record, that wasn’t the first time I have hugged you, you know. Granted, you were unconscious, but details, details…Right?”

He frowned. “I guess you did, didn’t you? I feel a great sense of loss that you have those memories and I do not.”

“I understand what you mean. When you arrived last night, you weren’t a stranger to me. No, I didn’t know your name before I saw the story about your search, or anything about you personally, but I knew your face. I’d felt your heart beat beneath my palm countless times while waiting for help to arrive. I knew what had happened to you. When I found out you were looking for me, I understood your need to tie up loose ends, and I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thank you. At first, I just wanted to say thank you,” he said.

She smiled. “And you have, multiple times.”

“I know we’ve said hello. My problem now is thinking about that goodbye.”

“Then don’t think about it,” she said. “Unless you have other plans, at least stay for Christmas. I know it’s a couple of weeks away, but I can’t bear to think you’d spend that holiday alone.”

It touched him that she was frowning and so serious about his solitary life. “Thank you for the invitation. It would be an honor,” he said.

“Good. Now, no more debts of gratitude between us. Let’s make lunch. Do you remember where the plates are kept?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then would you please get a couple down for us, and glasses, too,” she asked, then began pulling out condiments and cold cut, and three kinds of cheese. Then she cut into a large round loaf of sourdough bread and sliced off enough for their sandwiches, then got a jar of pickles, lettuce and tomatoes from the fridge, and a bag of chips from the pantry.

Once she had everything out, she put two long slices of bread on each plate, then looked up. “You tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.”

He blinked. Food. She’s talking about food. And pointed to a jar of prepared horseradish to go with the roast beef. This visit is going to be harder than I thought.

***

After lunch, they wound up at the jigsaw table. Someone must have started a new one during renovations and then left it unfinished when the job was over. The picture on the box was a colorful patchwork quilt. It was a thousand-piece puzzle, and the pieces were about the size of a quarter.

Trey kept picking up pieces and then putting them down, thinking he’d found the right shape and color, only to find it was wrong, while Marley seemed to have an eye for them.

“You’re good at this,” he said.

She looked up. “Am I? I like jigsaw puzzles. They turn off the static in life.”

He frowned. “Static?”

She paused, trying to think how to explain what she meant. “You know how you can start worrying about a thing, and then before you know it, you’ve added a couple of more things to it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then everything all comes into your head at once, like static on a radio when you can’t tune in to a station, and you get so focused on trouble that you forget to listen to the music.”

He was so stunned by the analogy that he could only stare. She smiled at him, then went back to scanning the loose pieces on the table. When she picked one up and popped it into place, he picked up a couple of pieces and turned them over, then put them back down.

“What are you doing?” Marley asked.

“Looking to see if the damn things were marked, like a deck of cards.”

She started grinning. “Marked?”

He shrugged. “You beat anything I’ve ever seen. Talks to angels. Smart as a whip. Sees patterns in color and shapes. Damnedest sense of humor ever. And wisdom far beyond your years.”

“Is that good, or is that bad?” she asked.

“It’s beyond amazing, is what it is,” he said.

“So, what you’re saying is…I’m all that, and a bag of chips?”

He grinned. “Pretty much.”

She suddenly thrust her fingers through her hair and gasped.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You’re giving me the bighead. I can feel it swelling. Stop bragging on me. It leaves me with the feeling that now I have to say something nice about you, and I’m struggling with that, because we’ve been sitting here almost an hour, and you still haven’t found one single puzzle piece that fits.”

“Shut it, girl! I will not be maligned by someone named Bug. I have a reputation to protect.”

Marley was laughing, in her element. Having someone to talk to—sharp enough for verbal sparring without being insulted—was a gift.

“Now that you’ve brought it up, exactly what kind of a reputation do you have?”

“Besides being born an Austin?” he asked.

And just like that, the mood shifted. “I did not mean that to sound like I was prying. Sorry. I was just teasing,” she said.

“I invest in real estate. I own a few rental properties in Phoenix. The cleaning ladies who come weekly to my house think I’m a monk. They don’t say so, but I hear them talking when they’re cleaning. They speak Spanish. They don’t know I do, too. And they’re very bothered that there’s no sign of a woman in my life.”

She nodded. “I get that too, sometimes. Marley Corbett! Cute little blond surely too dumb to walk and chew gum at the same time, and no man in her life. But I know who I am. I don’t apologize for my choices, and you shouldn’t, either. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said.

She pointed to a puzzle piece at his elbow. “That one. Put it here,” she said, pointing to a spot in one corner.

He did. “It fits!”

“Persistence pays,” she said. “I’ve had enough of this puzzle for a while, and it’s nearly dark. Night comes fast to the mountains, especially at this time of year.”

She pushed her chair back and stood, then looked down at the table and paused. She leaned over his shoulder, her hair brushing against his neck as she reached out in front of him, picked up one more piece of the puzzle, and slid it into place. Then she patted him on the shoulder.

“I need to tend to the fire,” she said, and walked away.

He took a deep breath, and then got up and walked toward the lobby and spent a good fifteen minutes looking at all of the ornaments on the Christmas tree before he could regain his composure. Finally, he looked up and saw the angel on top.

“Wherever she goes, you follow, don’t you?” he said.

Trey was kicked back on one of the leather sofas in the great room with his laptop in his lap, and Marley was nose deep in a book when his phone rang. He saw caller ID and paused to answer.

“Hey, Meredith, what’s up?”

“I’ve been approached by a film agent wanting you to consider writing a script about your search for Cinderella. She thinks it will be an easy sell. Are you interested?”

Trey sat up. “Maybe, but only if you can keep all that separate.”

“I know what you mean. I don’t see the conflict,” Meredith said. “Nobody would ever put Prince Charming in Chapel Hill’s chair, if you know what I mean.”

“I know. Then if they offer enough, I might consider it, but I’m not doing it on spec.”

Meredith laughed in his ear. “I already knew that. You aren’t your father’s son for nothing.”

He sighed. “That is not a compliment, but you’re forgiven. I love you, anyway.”

“I knew that, too,” Meredith said. “I’ll be in touch.”

Trey ended the call, then looked up and realized Marley was gone. Frowning, he got up to go see where she went, and found her in the kitchen, deboning the stewed chicken.

“You didn’t have to leave,” he said.

Marley shrugged. “I wanted to give you some privacy with your girl, and this has to be done, anyway.”

Shit. Now she either believes I have a girlfriend, or I give up some of my anonymity to explain. And in the long run, losing his chance with her mattered more than the secrets he kept to himself.

“Meredith isn’t my girlfriend, honey. She’s my agent, and she’s old enough to be my mother. She’s close to me, like you’re close to Jack and Wanda.”

Marley paused and looked up. “Agent?”

He sighed. “I write stuff now and then, but it’s not something I talk about, and no one knows. Well…now you do…but I owe you everything, which includes my truth. And I’m trusting you not to share it.”

She blinked. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just about to make the dough for dumplings. So, unless you want flour all over your pretty self, you might want to make yourself scarce for a bit.”

He shook his head. My pretty self.

“Making myself scarce now,” he said, and left the room, thinking as he went that revealing his long-kept secret could be a welcome relief, even though she didn’t know what he wrote. Maybe that would come later. He went back to his laptop, reread his notes one more time, and then took a quick breath, opened a new document, and wrote “There was a scorpion on the wall by Charlotte’s foot, but she couldn’t scream for the gag in her mouth, and she was tied up too tight to get away.”

The first words of the first chapter of a new book. The next best thing to sex.

***

An hour or so later, Trey reached a point in the story that he needed to think about. He saved it, then set the laptop aside and glanced out the windows.

It was snowing again—but the flakes were the size of goose down and floating as they fell. Mesmerized by the fairy-tale sight, he walked through the lobby and out onto the covered porch that ran the length of the lodge.

The cold air had a bite to it. A reminder that winter beauty had its drawbacks, but he inhaled anyway, drawing the fresh mountain air into his lungs, and then watched the cloud forming from his breath as he exhaled.

He stepped through the thin crust of snow on the porch, extended his arm out beyond the roof, and turned his hand palm up, watching snowflakes falling on his hand and melting in an instant. The mere warmth of his skin ended the flake’s journey before it ever reached the ground. He stepped back beneath the roof before his flight of fancy imagined he’d interrupted an important journey. A snowflake’s purpose was the same as a raindrop. One was liquid. One was frozen. But they both carried moisture to the earth.

Some days, his life felt like that. Sometimes liquid—everything going smoothly, then sometimes frozen—like he was spinning in place. Not until he’d found the little red shoe had he been jarred out of his routine enough to take this drastic chance. Marley Corbett was his catalyst. The spark he’d needed. And a woman who would be so easy to love. But this was Trey’s dream. He didn’t even know if she dreamed of him at all.

He heard the door open behind him, and then she was at his side. She leaned against his arm and slid her hand beneath his elbow.

“Isn’t this beautiful?”

But he wasn’t looking at the vista anymore. He was looking at her.

“Yes…so beautiful,” he said.

She glanced up. They locked gazes, and in that moment, she saw her own reflection. It was an eerie feeling—like seeing her own soul within the eyes of another, and she quickly looked away.

In the distance, she could hear heavy equipment moving on the road.

“Sounds like the snowplow is finally on the mountain.”

“Do they plow out your driveway?” he asked.

“No, just the main road. Jack has a blade on the tractor. He’ll make a road for me. But you don’t need it yet. You’re staying for Christmas, remember?”

Trey thought he detected a note of anxiety in her voice. Maybe she didn’t want him to leave. God knows he didn’t want to, either.

“I remember and I wouldn’t miss it for anything, but I think we need to go inside. You’re shivering.”

When he clasped her hand to steady her on the rime of icy snow, she didn’t pull back.

Warmth met them at the door.

“It feels good in here,” Trey said as he closed the door behind them.

“Chicken and dumplings will make you feel even better, and they’re ready to eat if you are.”

“I’ve been thinking about them all day,” he said.

“Anticipation always makes everything better,” Marley said, but before he could answer, the lodge phone rang. “Shoot, I better get that,” she said, and headed for the front desk and picked up the phone. “Corbett Lodge. Yes, we’re still closed, but we’re reopening January 1st. Yes, thank you for calling. Hope to see you then.”

“Customers?” Trey asked.

“Locals, asking about the Sunday brunch and lunches.”

“You don’t do breakfasts?” he asked.

“Yes, but only for the guests who stay over. Not for the public,” she said.

“Do people ever stay over for extended periods of time?”

“Not unless it’s a wayward prince, looking for the girl missing a shoe. Let’s eat. I’m starving,” she said.

He grinned. “Right behind you.”

A few minutes later they were seated at the table, eating, and talking as if it was their daily routine.

Trey paused, waving his spoon in the air to punctuate the point. “You know, this time last night I was still on the interstate, following a trucker’s taillights because I couldn’t see ten feet in front of me. It’s amazing what a few hours’ difference can make in a life.”

“Or a few seconds…like an angel playing crossing guard and sending me to meet my fate,” she added.

Trey laid down his spoon. “I’ve never been someone’s fate before.”

“I’ve never saved a life before.”

He reached across the table and held out his hand. “There’s an old Chinese belief about that. Once you save someone’s life, you are responsible for it forever.”

Marley laid her hand in his. “We’re not Chinese. Does that apply across the board?”

He curled his fingers around her hand. “I think it could, if we wanted it to.”

Her heart was pounding. “Do you want it to?”

“I know it took forever to find you, and I was almost at the point of accepting you wanted nothing to do with me when you responded, then I had this overwhelming need to find you before you disappeared again. When you opened the door to me last night, it felt like such a relief to have reached my final destination. It still feels like that, and I don’t want to lose that feeling,” he said.

Marley stood up, still holding his hand, and swore an oath she might live to regret. “Trey Austin, I solemnly accept the responsibility of your wellbeing for the rest of your life. What we make of that, only time will tell.”

Trey stood. “Then I thank you for the sacrifice. Should we seal this vow somehow? Maybe a toast?”

“I’d rather seal it with a kiss.”

His pulse kicked. “A stellar suggestion, Cinderella,” he said, then let go of her hand and kissed her.

Her mouth was warm, and soft, and yielding. He wanted so much more, but she’d only asked for a kiss. The moment he lifted his head, he felt the loss.

She could still feel his hands on her shoulders and the imprint of his mouth on her lips when she opened her eyes. She felt weightless. And he was waiting, but she didn’t know exactly what for.

Whatever you do, do not make a joke.

“I guess now this means I have to buy you a Christmas present.”

He blinked, and then threw back his head and laughed, and laughed, and then picked her up and hugged her.

Marley’s feet weren’t even on the floor, but she was grinning. “You may put me down now.”

He set her down easy, but he was still grinning. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to overstep, but you took me by surprise. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re brave. And you have the quirkiest sense of humor ever. I love it!”

“And I can cook. Don’t forget I can cook.” She was laughing with him now. “I hear it’s an ancient, but time-honored prerequisite for landing a man, too. A couple of hundred years ago, they would have had me sitting by the fireside doing needlepoint and making candles or something. I choose this life, as hectic as it often is.”

Trey just shook his head, delighted by her deprecating humor.

“And now you’re bound to me as well. I am one lucky dude. For that, I will happily clear the table and load the dishwasher, if you’ll deal with the food.”

She started to argue and then realized he offered because he wanted to be needed. “That would be amazing.”

Pleased, he set about the task, leaving Marley to admire the sight of him standing there at her sink with his hands in the water. There was no denying she was falling for him.

They flipped a coin about which movie they wanted to watch together.

Trey won. He chose the movie 1917 , based on a true story about a conscientious objector who went to war in WWI.