Page 39 of All She Wants

“I hoped that was where the evening was headed.”

“You don’t have to wait for me to ask.”

Claire touched Erin’s cheek. “Your toothbrush is in my bathroom, and I’ve apparently left enough behind to claim part of your nightstand. We seem to be handling this without much discussion.”

“I’m comfortable letting our belongings negotiate for us.”

Claire laughed and leaned down to kiss her. “Then my belongings have already answered for me.”

“What time do you finish work tomorrow?” Erin asked.

“Whenever I close the laptop. Why?”

“I would like to take you on a date. I thought we could go ice-skating after I close the shop. Do you know how to skate?”

Claire considered that. “I’ve watched it in the Olympics.”

Erin sat up. “Have you ever actually stepped onto the ice?”

“I can’t claim that I have.”

“You’ve never skated?”

“I mean, I understand the basic principles. Sharp blades, questionable traction, and an alarming distance between my head and the ground.”

Erin took her hand. “I won’t let you fall.”

CLAIRE PUSHED THROUGH the front door at quarter to three with her cheeks pink from the cold and her camel coat dusted with fresh powder. She wore dark jeans, ankle boots with a low heel, and a cream turtleneck Erin had not seen before.

“You’re early,” Erin said from behind the register.

“I’ve spent the afternoon thinking about blades strapped to my feet. Sitting alone for another fifteen minutes seemed very nerve-racking.”

Claire set a small bag on the counter and pulled out gloves, a knit hat, hand warmers, and an extra pair of wool socks.

Ingrid looked over the collection. “You appear to be preparing for an expedition.”

Claire gave Ingrid a mild look. “I was told to dress warm.”

“That tracks for just about everything in Colorado this time of year. You’ll be just fine.”

Claire unbuttoned her coat and settled against the counter beside Ingrid as though she had been leaning there for years. “What are you doing tomorrow night, Ingrid?”

Ingrid’s pen paused. “Reading. Eating fancy cheese. Going to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Come to the rental instead. We’ll cook, open good champagne, and stay up until midnight.”

Ingrid studied her. The pen remained still.

“I make a divine prime rib,” Claire added. “And Erin has promised to handle homemade bread.”

“I can make oliebollen,” Ingrid said. “They are basically Dutch doughnuts. My mother made them every New Year’s Eve, and Nell loved them enough to eat four before the oil had cooled.” She closed the ledger. “You’ll need a deep pot. I’ll bring the rest.”

“The rental has several of them that would work,” Claire said. “Come whenever you’re ready.”

Ingrid nodded once and began packing her bag. Erin reached across the counter and squeezed Claire’s hand, unable to hide how much the answer pleased her.

After Ingrid left, Erin locked the register, turned off the lights, and pulled on her coat. They stepped outside together and crossed the snowy parking lot to Erin’s car.