Page 82 of Charmed, I'm Sure

He tugs me along, tipping his head toward the three elder fae, who stopped their conversation to watch us walk by. His broad smile beams as one of them fans herself.

“You’re creating quite a little fandom here in Pumpkinridge. Should I be worried?”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes sparkling. “You’ll never have to worry when it comes to me. They can wink, smile, and do anything they want to garner my attention, but they will never get it. Only you will.”

I can feel myself blushing as I duck my head. It’s going to take a long time for me to get used to his love and affection. He drags me from one side of the store to the other, gathering all sorts of ingredients for the dinner he plans to make. His hands move as he animatedly chats about Jasper, his hometown. I just listen and watch him, already loving every little detail about his town. It sounds like our town, just minus the witches and vampires.

He doesn’t hesitate to pay or grab all the bags. Instead, he pulls my hand into his as we walk out of the general store and down the path towards my home. We are deep into a childhood story of his when my house comes into view, and although I haven’t said a lot during the walk, I’ve enjoyed listening to him.

When we get inside, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I’ve never had someone cook for me outside of my parents, and even that was rare. I’ve also never had anyone in here besides Elora, and that doesn’t count either.

I’m standing awkwardly in my kitchen as he pulls all his items out of the grocery bags. My fingers twist in the skirt of my dress.

Miles looks up from what he’s doing; a smile spreads across his face.

“Why don’t you take a bath? Is that something you enjoy doing?”

“Uh…I enjoy baths. You sure you don’t want me to help?”

His head shakes gently from side to side. “Nope, I want you to relax while I make dinner. Take a bath, read a book, light some candles. Do whatever will help you relax.”

“Okay, but you’re sure you don’t need my help? I don’t mind cutting the vegetables or stirring the sauce.”

“Shoo, go on. I’ll be fine!”

I just stare at him until he turns around and gets to work. He’s opening cabinets, searching for something. My mouth opens, ready to ask, but he holds up a finger. Not even turning around, he says, “I’ll be fine, Bellamy. Go on.”

Nyx sits in his normal spot on the counter, glancing between the two of us. Almost as if he’s waiting for me to hex Miles for shooing me out of my kitchen. When I don’t, he tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at me, before he shakes his head, and lays down. Apparently, even my familiar is done with me.

The bath is warm, filled with dried roses and lavender sprigs, and just the right level of comfort as I lay there. I can feel the muscles along my back relaxing. With my eyes closed, the warm water surrounding me and the floral scent in the air, I should be relaxing. But all I can think about is the wolf in my kitchen making dinner.

I can’t relax. I’ve tried for ten minutes now, but I want to know what he’s doing. The air is chilly against my heated skin as I stand up and grab my towel. I’m drying off when there’s a knock at the door.

Miles’s voice comes through. “Dinner’s ready.”

Since I’ve owned the house, I have never used my dining room. I like to think that someone used to host lavish dinner parties in it, but not me. The table is clean of any dust, the candles are lit, and there are piles of food lining it: from a massive bowl of spaghetti with meatballs to the overflowing basket of garlic knots. You would think he was hosting said dinner party, not making dinner for just the two of us. He even has wine poured into crystal glasses.I don’t even know where he found those.

But as my eyes scan the table, taking in every single thing he’s done in the time I was in the bath, I can’t recall a time anyone has ever done something even remotely close to this for me. Not a single birthday party ever had this much food or care put into it. He’s put more time and attention into a simple dinner than anyone has ever put into big moments in my life.

Miles pushes the door open with his back, gliding into the room as if this has been part of his life all along. When he whirls around, his face lights up when he spots me standing there. He carries in a freshly-baked apple pie using my oven mitts, which I’ve never used. Who is this guy?

“You’re just in time! I just pulled this beauty out of the oven and was about to come searching for you.” He sets the pie down on the table and walks over to hold out my chair.

Hesitantly, I walk over and sit down as he pushes it forward before taking his own seat right next to me.

My eyebrow hooks up as I watch him unfold one of those cloth napkins and place it on his lap. He chuckles before handing me one of my own.

“Don’t look at me like that. Just because I’m a dog, as you claim, doesn’t mean I don’t have table manners.”

I laugh. “I never said you were a dog.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Trouble, you’ve taken every opportunity to call me a dog or make a dog-related jab. Don’t pretend otherwise now that you like me.”

“Who said I like you now?”

“Well, for one,” he holds up a finger between us, “I’ve made it almost 24 hours without a dog jab.”

Another finger flicks up. “Two, you haven’t hexed me in at least a few days now. Although that one actually worries me more than reassures me.”