Page 12 of A Daddy for Christmas 3: Nova
“We can get a bite to eat beforehand; I know a place. It’s just a block away from the club too.”
“I’m beginning to think you know a place for every situation.”
“There could be some truth to that. This has been home for the last dozen years or so.”
“I thought I’d feel that way about Minneapolis once I’d gotten settled in the city, but it still doesn’t feel like home to me. There’s a part of me that sees it as something temporary, like I’m on the lookout for that perfect spot to come up so I can move on to something else. The kicker is that I haven’t even looked since I got promoted. I just settled into the job, and the next thing I knew, I was juggling cookie-cutter projects and dreading another holiday spent in the city.”
“This place has a way of calling to you and opening your eyes to the parts of yourself you’re ready to let go of,” he said.
He had this way with words, smoothly stringing them together like the poets I used to love listening to at open mic night.
“We’ll see what it can accomplish in under three weeks,” I said, always aware of that clock ticking down on my time here. I saw him grimace, just a little, echoing my sentiments whenever I thought about it. We were only on day three, and I was already getting attached. How the fuck was I going to say goodbye on day twenty-one? That didn’t seem long enough for all the places I wanted him to show me, and moments like this I longed to share.
I had just eighteen days left to pack in as many experiences as possible. Eighteen days to rapidly fall in love and then get my heart broken.
Eighteen days to have the time of my life.
Chapter 6
(Robbie)
My home truly was on the beach, set back off the street by a long driveway, with the water just a stone’s throw away from the back patio, where I fired up the grill before leading Nova inside, to the kitchen, which lay just behind the screened-in mudroom that sat between the house and the deck.
“Makes it easier to keep from tracking sand all through the place,” I explained, as he took in the wide, tiled shower stall with three showerheads mounted in the ceiling.
It was big enough for three people to fit comfortably, not that I brought many people home with me these days. When I’d first had it built, I was still in my party boy phase, needing to celebrate every win and drown out every loss in the most intense way possible. Booze and a willing body had typically played a bigpart in both, though the closer I got to forty, the easier it was to leave the parties behind me.
The kitchen was spacious because I loved to cook and saw no reason to have a separate room just for eating, so there was an oval island at the center, where I placed the groceries we’d picked up on the way home. Four chairs sat around it, providing plenty of extra counter space for meal prep, in addition to spots to sit and eat, though that wasn’t the plan for tonight.
“There’s a cutting board in the center drawer to your left,” I explained as I reached for a knife in the block and handed the blue-handled blade to him. “I’ll core the pineapple and wash the peaches so you can cut them into fourths and remove the pit. Not too thin on the pineapple slices though, since they’re going on the grill along with the peaches.”
“I’ve never seen anyone grill peaches,” he replied.
“Then you’re in for a treat. I brush them with my own special marinade before putting them on the grill, and they come out succulent and juicy, with just a hint of smokiness to them.”
“Is this one of those secret marinades that’s going to leave me mellow, floaty, and feeling like I should be watching Scooby-Doo?”
It took me a moment to realize what he was referring to, then I laughed and reached for the bottle in the cabinet, shook it, and passed it to him so he could see the note I’d written on the side of the jar.
“There’s no THC involved,” I explained. “Just olive oil, honey, sea salt, and cinnamon. For the pineapple, I just squeeze on some lime juice and brush with a bit of coconut syrup.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“I promise it will melt in your mouth.”
“Then I’d better get slicing,” he said as he cut into one of the peaches, dragging the blade around it until he could twist it apart and scoop out the pit.
Confident that he had the peaches in hand, I cored the pineapple, removing the husk in the process, and stood it on the cutting board for him before turning my attention back to the steaks and scallops we’d picked up. A little sprinkle of salt, a few turns of the pepper grinder, and a dusting of garlic powder, and they were ready to go on the grill. I took the steaks out, taking a quick peek over at Nova to see that he’d already finished with the four peaches and had laid the pineapple on its side to get to work on it.
Golden light struck his hair from the sunbeams that streamed in through the windows, and I took a moment to enjoy the way he looked, barefoot in my kitchen in those hip-hugging cutoff jeans of his. As soon as I returned from positioning the steaks on the grill, I told the smart speaker to play two piña coladas, thrilled when he started doing a little shimmy shake and shoulder roll to the beat while still carefully slicing.
It had been months since I’d cooked with anyone, maybe even longer. I tried to think back to the last time I’d had company over for dinner and found that I couldn’t even picture the face of my companion that night. Something told me it would be a long time before Nova’s faded from my thoughts, especially when he started singing along to the song while I whipped up a batch of cowboy butter.
“If you’d like, I can mix us up some piña coladas to go with supper,” I mentioned, but only after the last notes of the song had faded away.
“Oh, that would be perfect; those always go down super smooth, and I absolutely adore coconut. Some of my friends give me shit when they visit my apartment, claiming it always smells like a tropical island in there, but the only candles I gravitate to are tropical-themed and usually have coconut in them.”
“Nothing wrong with that. My tastes tend to lean towards rain, palm tree, or sunshine scented.”