Page 22 of Big Package

“I don’t know.” That was the truth.

Daylight showed me things I hadn’t noticed at the table the night before, like a nick in the tabletop and a framed photograph on a shelf across the room. A teenage Cole stood in front of a small house, and a gray-haired woman next to him had one arm around his shoulders.

“Is that your grandmother?”

“Yeah.”

“She looks nice.”

“She was.”

I heard the past tense right away. “I’m sorry.”

“She died a few years ago.”

The words came out flat, but I was beginning to understand that Cole’s flat tone usually meant the opposite of indifference. I didn’t make him explain.

After breakfast I opened the town Facebook page, which was a mistake. A pickup sat sideways near the church, and someone had filmed themselves skiing down Main Street. Then I saw a picture of Wrapped on Main, Christmas lights glowing in the window, with a fresh set of footprints across the sidewalk.

“Delaney checked on it,” I said.

“Told you she would. What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong, and that was the part I wasn’t prepared for. The shop had survived a morning without me. Nobody had broken in, the pipes hadn’t frozen, and Christmas hadn’t been canceled, at least not yet.

“You don’t have to do everything yourself,” Cole said.

“Says the man who lives alone in the woods and won’t let anyone wash a dish.”

He shrugged and shoved another bite of eggs into his mouth.

When he stood to clear the plates, I grabbed mine first. “I’m washing.”

“No.”

I held the plate behind my back. “You cooked.”

“Give me the plate.”

“Make me.” The words left my mouth before I considered how they sounded. I hadn’t meant to sound that way, or maybe it was exactly the way some reckless part of me intended.

Cole’s gaze dropped to my mouth. He stepped closer, slowly enough that I could have backed away.

I didn’t.

“You sure about that?” His voice was lower now.

“Yes.” My voice came out as almost a whisper. What was it about this man that made me want to bury myself against his chest and let him take care of me?

He moved closer until I could feel his heat. His arm came around my side, and my entire body tightened in anticipation.

Then his hand closed around the edge of the plate behind me. He pulled it free and stepped back. “Got it.”

I stared at him. The bastard. “You cheated.”

“Still got it.”

“You’re impossible.”