Celebrate in Good Hope (Good Hope #22)

Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

After that, Boone and Roe made love nearly every night. He couldn’t get enough of her, and it appeared by her enthusiastic response that the feeling was mutual.

Each time Boone wondered if he’d made the attraction out to be more than it was, all he had to do was walk into the same room as Roe.

It wasn’t just sex. He genuinely liked and enjoyed her company. They talked about everything except their future, because they both knew they didn’t have one—not together.

When he arrived home from the YMCA on Wednesday, her car was already in the garage. He was surprised she’d beat him home. She’d started going to the theater immediately after her shift ended at Muddy Boots, usually arriving home shortly after he did.

With his doctor’s approval, Boone had begun swimming before his workouts. Though he wasn’t close to being in shape to return to the team, it felt good knowing he was doing all he could.

Entering the house, he paused. His lips quirked upward. She was singing. Something he’d discovered she did when she was happy.

Something else captured his attention. Boone inhaled deeply, then followed his nose to the kitchen.

“I’m home,” he called on the way.

The singing abruptly stopped.

He found Roe removing a loaf of bread from the oven.

Boone widened his eyes. “You bake bread?”

She turned and laughed. “I’ve been known to pop a loaf or two into an oven.”

Her hazel eyes sparkled like autumn leaves catching the sunlight. The lips that curved upward were cherry red. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders in soft waves and was held back from her face by a stretchy band the same color as her lips.

Even dressed simply in jeans and a sweater, she looked incredible.

“Lovely,” he murmured.

Roe wasn’t looking at him as he breathed the word. As she’d turned to place the bread on a cooling rack, her eyes remained focused on the fragrant loaf filling the air with its fantastic scent.

Stepping back, she placed her hands on her hips and gave a satisfied nod. “It turned out even better than I imagined.”

He moved a little closer on the pretext of looking more closely at the loaf. “I haven’t had cinnamon bread in forever.”

“I haven’t either,” she admitted. “I ran across this easy recipe online while looking for something else last week. When we were at the market, I picked up the ingredients I needed, and this is the result. We could have a slice tonight for dessert, and it’ll be great with morning coffee.”

She looked so pleased with herself that he couldn’t help but smile.

Boone liked the routine they’d fallen into. Having coffee together in the morning, telling each other about their days over dinner in the evening and making love at night .

The sunlight from the window cast a soft glow on her dark strands. He remembered how soft her hair felt between his fingers and how her lips tasted against his.

Routines were nice, but there was nothing saying that making love had to wait until nightfall.

“I impressed myself,” she said, resting her back against the counter. “I’m determined to fully enjoy the holiday.”

He was determined to fully enjoy it, and her, as well. But when she turned and began gathering up supplies, he realized he was the only one interested in changing up their routine this evening.

After rinsing the utensils, she put them into the dishwasher before turning to face him. “I know we’ve been having wine during happy hour, but since the twenty-fifth is only a week away, I wondered what you’d think of trying a Christmas cocktail this evening.”

His first thought was that it sounded like a lot of work. With her job at Muddy Boots and volunteering at the theater, she was stretched thin. Not to mention all the work she’d done to bring Christmas to the cabin.

A wreath made out of pinecones, berries and evergreen branches had appeared on the front door a few days earlier. Yesterday, twinkling white lights and garland with red bows were encircling the porch rail when he’d returned from the gym.

“We don’t have to.” She spoke quickly when he didn’t immediately respond. “I mean, I’ve already put all the ingredients together for tonight, but that doesn’t mean you have to drink it. You can still have wine. We have red or white?—”

Boone put his arms around her, stilling her chatter. With a gentle finger, he brushed a tendril of that silky hair back from her face. “I like trying new drinks, but I’d also like for us to go out.”

“We go out every day.”

“I’m talking about a date. You and I have been given this chance to enjoy Christmas together.” His fingers toyed with a lock of her hair, liking her quick intake of breath when his knuckles brushed her cheek. “It’s never as much fun doing things alone, especially during the holidays.”

“You’re right. This year can be different.”

“It already feels that way. You’ve made the cabin feel like a home.”

Her gaze shifted to the simmering pot of cinnamon, cloves and orange peels, another recent addition. “I’m enjoying infusing a little Christmas spirit into the place.”

“Well, you’ve succeeded.” He smiled. “Now, tell me about tonight’s cocktail.”

She shot him a teasing smile. “How about I show you the drink, and you guess what’s in it?”

Clearly, she was in the mood to play. Well, he liked games. “Sounds like fun.”

His comment had her smiling and gesturing to the sofa. “Relax while I get the drinks.”

Boone dropped down on the sofa, but waiting for her to serve him didn’t feel right. They always worked together. When it was time for happy hour, either she or he poured a glass of wine. Dinner was also a joint effort.

It was usually nothing fancy, just something they could throw together. But they’d gotten good at working side by side, developing a nice rhythm.

Boone enjoyed being part of a team. He pushed himself up from the sofa when she appeared with two rocks glasses on a small tray.

He sat back down. Once he took his drink, Roe set the tray aside and sat beside him, holding her own drink. Her fingers, sporting bright red nails, added a pop of color against the white liquid in the glass.

“What’s this green thing?” he asked, pulling out the sprig of green protruding from the top of the white liquid .

“Rosemary.”

Boone set it aside on the napkin she’d handed him.

Whether it was the heat from the flames that danced cheerily in the hearth or the softness of the overstuffed leather sofa, as Boone sat in the great room in front of the fire and stared at the rocks glass filled with ice and topped with cranberries, he felt enveloped in the spirit of the holidays.

He studied the glass in his hand. Boone had no idea what went into this drink but knew that sometimes the name gave a clue. “What’s it called?”

“Mistletoe Kiss.”

“I need a little inspiration to solve this mystery.”

For a second, confusion furrowed her brow, but when he held the sprig of rosemary over his head, she chuckled.

Smiling, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

She tasted like cinnamon and sugar, and Boone immediately knew one kiss wouldn’t be enough. When she pulled back, he heaved a dramatic sigh. “I believe more inspiration is needed.”

She laughed a joyous sound that reminded him of the tinkling of a thousand bells. “Perhaps taking a sip will help.”

“I think another kiss would have given me the answer, but we’ll do it your way.” Boone took a sip and discovered he liked the taste. Really liked it. “Vodka.”

“Ding, ding, ding.”

Her bright smile and obvious enthusiasm were all he needed to continue with the game.

“Ice.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Rosemary stalk.”

“Sprig.” Roe laughed. “And I gave you that answer.”

“Club soda.”

She nodded approval. “Very good.”

Boone took another long drink. He’d never been that adventurous with alcohol. He liked different wines, both white and red, and he had his favorite craft beers, but he’d never cared about specialty cocktails one way or the other.

He let the alcohol linger on his tongue. There was some subtle ingredient that he was missing, but try as he might, he couldn’t identify it. “I’m done. I have no idea what else is in here, but I like how it came together.”

“Lemon juice, rosemary syrup and cranberries.”

“The cranberries go without saying.” He glanced pointedly at the berries floating atop his drink.

She chuckled. “Sometimes we miss the obvious.”

Boone knew that to be true. He’d noticed that the place had started to feel like home, but now understood that had less to do with the decorations and food than the woman sitting beside him. “Well, this drink is a winner.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Her eyes turned distant as if she was looking back. “Last week, I started thinking that Christmas will be here before we know it. In the past, I was usually too busy to do much around the holidays. I’d buy gifts and have them shipped. I’d decorate a small tree, but that was it.”

“Many of the guys on the team looked forward to time off around the holidays.”

She must have picked up on something in his voice because the gaze she settled on him held a question. “Not you?”

“Not really.”

“Didn’t you tell me you’d had a girlfriend that you’d been with for several years? Surely, holidays were different when you were together.”

“Holidays were a busy time for Ella. Heck, what am I saying? The woman was busy year-round. Ella was driven. I respected that because I was driven, too.”

“What did she do that kept her so busy?” Roe sipped her drink, her hazel eyes never leaving his face. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Ella was an on-air sports reporter for ESPN. ”

Though her gaze remained watchful, Roe’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “You two obviously had a lot in common.”

“We knew many of the same people.” Boone realized now that those common contacts had been the glue that had held them together long after they should have gone their separate ways. “Our relationship involved seeing each other only when it worked for our schedules. Eventually, I think she decided the logistics were too much of a hassle.”

“You think? You don’t know?”

“She said she thought we should go our separate ways, and I agreed.” Boone continued, not wanting Roe to get the mistaken idea that he still had feelings for Ella. “It wasn’t just her who knew it was over between us. I knew it, too. She was simply the first to voice it.”

Roe slowly nodded. “Do you think it would have been easier to maintain a relationship if you’d been under the same roof? Or did you live together?”

“No, we didn’t.” Boone shook his head. “Ella had an apartment but was rarely home. They had her flying all over the country. She loved it. If we’d lived together, I’d have been coming home to an empty place. It’s extra lonely at the holidays when you’re alone and everyone else is with a partner or family.”

“It is,” she conceded.

He hesitated for a long moment, then figured if he was thinking it, he might as well say it. “Now, when I leave the gym, I look forward to coming home.” Then, realizing how that sounded, he gave a little laugh. “I know technically this isn’t our home. But it feels that way.”

“It feels like home to me, too.” Roe made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “Decorating, baking bread and trying out new cocktails are fun, but not so much if you’re doing them for just yourself.”

“This year, you have me to experiment on. ”

“Yes.” Her eyes softened, looking like golden orbs in the light. “This year, we have each other.”

Once happy hour concluded, he and Roe moved to the kitchen and began to prep for the chicken tacos they’d decided to have for dinner.

While Boone handled browning the boneless chicken breasts cut into half-inch strips, Roe gathered the other ingredients, then set about cubing a medium-ripe avocado.

While she worked, she quizzed him about his day.

She appeared genuinely interested in the types of exercises that he was doing and the machines Trent had him on. When he mentioned how far he’d swum today, she smiled.

“Maybe I’ll come with you sometime, and we can race.” Her eyes sparkled with good humor.

He couldn’t tell if she meant that.

“You’re welcome any time. I’ll give it my best shot, but if you’re any kind of swimmer, you’ll reach that wall before me.” As the words left Boone’s mouth, he frowned and immediately reframed, “I’m getting faster and stronger every day.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Boone rested his back against the counter. “The swimming is simply conditioning that I do before I meet with Trent. He also wants me to continue to walk.”

He couldn’t keep the disgust from his voice. Walk . As if he were eighty years old. He was an athlete. He was in his prime, or had been before he’d been taken down.

Understanding filled her hazel eyes. “It’s difficult for you to hold back. You wish you could hit it harder.”

“A kid playing JV football in high school would be in better condition than me.”

“Not if they’d had major surgery. ”

Boone shrugged. He knew he should be grateful that the doctor let him do as much as he did. Thinking that maybe the surgeon was being too strict, Boone had contacted the team doctor and the head trainer. When they’d expressed surprise that the surgeon had loosened the reins as much as he had, Boone had known that pushing for more—at least at this time—would be pointless. That didn’t make the restrictions any easier to bear.

The enforced inactivity chafed, so he was glad he and Roe were going out tonight, even if it was simply to tour Victorian homes decorated for Christmas.

The doctor would be pleased that he’d be getting in his walking . “What time do you want to leave?”

She didn’t need to ask for clarification. While he didn’t understand it, they always seemed on the same wavelength.

“The tours start at seven. I thought we could leave here at six fifty.”

“That works.” It appeared that writing the new scene in his head would have to wait. The manuscript he’d tentatively titled Nebula’s Wrath had been resurrected. Recently, Boone had begun adding scenes—just for fun, of course.

Though he’d thought the words might come hard after so long away, that hadn’t been the case, and the plot was coming together in a way that had him eager to write more.

Each night, when Roe would yawn and stand, ready to head to bed, he had to force himself to stop writing.

Only the knowledge that he would be going to bed with her had him closing his laptop. After making love, she’d curl up against him, and they’d fall into an exhausted slumber.

Sleeping a solid eight hours was another of his doctor’s recommendations. Adhering to a regular schedule and getting enough rest at night was apparently crucial to his recovery.

Tonight, a Victorian home tour was on the agenda. He couldn’t imagine anything more boring. Boone would much rather stay home and write .

When she’d initially mentioned the event, Roe had told him that Ami and Beck’s home was on the tour and that it was a fundraiser for the Giving Tree.

He said he’d go because, while walking through other people’s homes decorated for Christmas didn’t particularly interest him, spending time with Roe did.

While Roe had made it clear he didn’t have to go with her if he didn’t want to, he knew it would be more fun for her to go through the homes with a partner.

Boone watched her return to intently chopping tomatoes at the counter and wondered what she’d do if he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck.

The knife in her hand was a deterrent to such impulsivity.

Roe looked up suddenly. “How’s the chicken coming?”

He glanced down at the skillet and the strips that were now a golden brown. “Almost there.”

This cooking gig was more fun than he’d thought it could be. When they worked together, it didn’t take much time, and the food they made was better than grabbing takeout every night. If the guys could see me now, he thought with a smile. Heck, if his dad could see him now. They’d never believe that Jason Boone had become domesticated.

He was not domesticated, he told himself. He was simply being a good roommate. Besides, he liked coming home after working out and then enjoying “happy hour” with Roe before they began preparing dinner.

“Let me add these to the bowl.” Stepping close, she swept the tomatoes into a bowl with the avocado, corn and lime juice. Boone inhaled the tantalizing scent. “Smells terrific.”

“The avocado has a nutty scent, and the lime?—”

“I was speaking about you.” He sniffed again. “Vanilla?”

She smiled. “My roommate used to say I should go for a sultrier scent, but this one suits me.”

“It does suit you.” Boone found the warm and inviting scent, which reminded him of sweet cream, incredibly sexy. But then, everything about her appealed to him.

“We talked so much about me earlier that I just realized I never asked how things are going at the theater.”

“Gladys is amazing. She knows everyone and everything that goes into mounting a production.” Roe’s expression brightened. “She’s been letting me act as stage director, so it’s been enjoyable for me.”

Boone wished they didn’t have to go out this evening. He didn’t understand how he, who used to love going out with friends, was content spending evenings in a cabin with one woman.

It wasn’t just making love, though he enjoyed that immensely, but making a meal and talking.

This contentment was likely due to his being still sluggish from his surgery. His body needed to relax and recharge, and he was making the best of the enforced rest.

Or maybe it was knowing this time with her wouldn’t last forever.

Come February, he would be on his way. Roe would be here for Dakota’s wedding, then off to parts unknown.

Very likely, they would never see each other again.

He slanted a glance at her. When she turned and caught him staring, she smiled, and his heart swelled.

One thing Boone knew for certain: He would never forget her.