Teresa Southwick - A Maverick's Christmas Homecoming

“I didn’t think it showed.”

“You’d be wrong.” He smiled then pulled chicken, vegetables and other ingredients from the refrigerator—all obviously prepared in advance—and stuff from a cupboard beside the stove, probably seasoning or spices. Or both. He took out a well-used frying pan and placed it on the stove. “But I’m pretty sure I understand.”

“What?”

“Your nerves. Thanks to reality TV, exposure about everything from bachelors to swamp people, we chefs have earned something of a reputation.”

“What kind of reputation would that be?” She finished her wine, then set the glass on the granite countertop.

“Bad boy.” The devil was in the blue-eyed glance he tossed over his shoulder. “And I’m no exception.”

“Oh?”

“Think about it. What I do involves sharp knives and fire. Very primitive.” As he lit the burner on the stove, the fire popped as the gas ignited.

“I see what you mean.” And how.

“On top of that I invited you to my place for dinner. But let me assure you that I have no intention of making you the dessert course.”

“That never crossed my mind.” But why not? she wanted to ask. It hadn’t been on her mind until just now. Well, maybe a little bit when she saw him in that shirt and those jeans because that kicked up a curiosity about what he’d look like without them.

He glanced over his shoulder again while tossing in the air over the hot flame everything he’d put in that frying pan. “In spite of what you may have heard, I’m not that type. I like to get to know a woman.”

If he really got to know her, chances were pretty good that he’d lose interest. And speaking of types, she probably wasn’t his. She wasn’t a businesswoman now, more the still-trying-to-find-herself variety.

“So, what are you doing for Christmas?” Changing the subject had seemed like a great idea until those words came out of her mouth. Would he think she was hinting for an invitation? The filter between her brain and mouth was either pickled or fried. Or both.

“My holiday plans are actually still up in the air,” he said.

There was an edge to his voice that demanded another subject change so she did. “What are you making for dinner tonight?”

“It’s something I’m experimenting with.”

“So I’m the guinea pig?”

“Think of yourself as quality control.” He grabbed the two plates off the table, then slid half the contents of the frying pan onto each one and set them on a part of the cooktop that looked like a warming area. Then he put liquids into the sauté pan and stirred, fully concentrating on the job. After spooning what looked to her like rice from a sauce pan, he said, “Dinner is served.” He glanced at her. “More wine?”

“Please.”

After filling her glass and setting plates on the table, he held the chair for her to sit down. If a guy had ever done that before, she couldn’t remember. Then he sat across from her. The star lilies and baby’s breath with candles in crystal holders on either side gave it all a romantic feel.

Suddenly her appetite disappeared, but she was here to eat and figured she’d better do that. She took a bite of the chicken and the flavors exploded on her tongue. “Oh, my. That is so good. It’s like a party in my mouth and I thought only chocolate could do that.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“What’s in here?” She chewed and swallowed. “Can you tell me or would you have to kill me?” At his wicked look she shrugged. “Bad-boy rep, remember? CIA. Fire. Sharp stuff.”

“I’ll make an exception for you.” He picked through the food on his plate. “Chicken. Asparagus. Mushrooms.”

“This looks like rice, but the consistency is wrong.”

“It’s risotto.”

“Ah.” The gleam in his eyes started pressure in the vicinity of her chest and she hoped it was nothing more than pre-indigestion.

They ate in silence for several moments before he said, “So how was growing up in Thunder Canyon?”

“It was great, but keep in mind that I didn’t know anything else.” She put down her fork and wiped her mouth on the cloth napkin. “The pace is slower here and kids don’t need to grow up so fast.”

“It’s slower for grown-ups, too.”

Gianna nodded. “Not everyone is happy about that. Maintaining the balance between status quo and development has been and probably still is a source of conflict here in town.”

That started a discussion about everything from population growth to weather to large holiday groups scheduled at The Gallatin Room the following week. It was interesting to hear about restaurant management, all that went into a successful business besides just preparing food. Time seemed to both fly and stand still.

Finally Shane looked at her. “Would you like more?”

“No, thanks.” Her plate was empty and she was so full. “I guess guinea pig was the correct term.”

“I don’t think so. Clearly you enjoyed the food. In some cultures burping is high praise and a compliment to the chef.”

“And in some parts of the country it’s a competitive sport.”

He laughed, then stood and picked up his plate. She followed his lead and carried hers into the kitchen, where he took it from her and set them in the sink.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

“Nothing. You’re a guest and I have a housekeeper. Why don’t we sit in the living room?”

“Okay.” But when they walked in, the tall windows were filled with the sight of lights winking in the valley below and she walked over. “That is a pretty amazing view.”

“I think so. Would you like to see it from the balcony?”

“Oh, yes.” She might never have another chance.

Shane opened the French door, then let her precede him outside. The cold air hit her immediately, but when they moved to the railing and he stood beside her, his nearness and the warmth from his body took the edge off.

“Oh, Shane, this is so stunning. Is it always like this?”

“Well, the mountains are permanent and don’t change.”

“Duh.”

He grinned down at her, then pointed. “See the spotlights over there? That’s the slopes and they’re always illuminated for night skiing. But in the last few days since Thanksgiving, people are putting up Christmas decorations so everything is even more beautiful.”

She glanced at him. “There’s something in your voice, an awe, a respect, as if you’re whispering in church.”

“It kind of feels that way,” he admitted. “There’s a sense of being in the presence of God. The natural beauty here …”

“Speaks to your heart?”

“Yeah. I do love it. Especially on a night like this.”

She looked up at the moon and stars. “I don’t know what’s more beautiful, the sky above or valley below.”

“Maybe it isn’t either one.”

There was a raspy quality in his voice that made her look at him. Their gazes locked and his sparked with heat and intensity. His shoulders were wide, his arms strong. Suddenly she was filled with an ache to feel them around her. She wanted to be dessert.

As if Shane could read her thoughts, his mouth inched toward hers and again time stood still.

Until it didn’t.

One second passed with him just standing there, then two before he backed away even though the expression in his eyes hadn’t changed. “It’s getting late. I should probably see you to your car.”

Gianna blinked up at him wondering what just happened. She wasn’t so out of practice that she didn’t know when a man was going to kiss her, and Shane had been about to do that. Something had changed his mind, but darned if she knew what it was. But clearly she’d been dismissed for unknown reasons.