Page 46 of Fairy Cakes in Winter

Not me.

Scott.

He probably had no idea how romantic this was—a beautiful setting, a handsome man, a cup of warm tea on a cold winter day…

Of course, all the yummy feelings made me nervous, which made me chattier than usual.

“Do you ever wonder what it was like to grow up in the eighteenth century? All the magnificent clothes and opulent balls,” I gushed, plopping next to him on a wooden bench under an ancient tree with haunting bare branches that stretched like skeletal bones overhead. “I bet it was amazing.”

“I bet it sucked,” Scott countered. “It gets fuckin’ cold here in winter. And don’t get me started on the rain.”

“You grew up in Seattle. You’re used to cold and rain.”

“I’m also used to running water, central heat, and AC too.” He sipped his tea and sniffed. “Scratch that. We didn’t have air conditioning in our house when we were kids. My sister and I ran through sprinklers and ate popsicles to stay cool.”

“I did that too.”

“What was it like growing up at a winery?”

I smiled wanly. “It was…quiet. There weren’t many kids my age around, so I read a lot. My mother worried about me spending too much time on my own. I think she resented my dad for being absent. According to her, he was always in the vineyard, never home. When he was home, they fought, so…that really wasn’t much better.”

“How old were you when they divorced?”

I cocked my head thoughtfully. “Nine.”

“That’s tough.”

“Yeah, it was very…sad. I was old enough to know they were both unhappy and naïve enough to think I could have done something to fix them.”

He set a comforting hand on my knee. “That’s a lot of pressure for a kid.”

“I know, right? My parents are good people. They’re just better apart. You’re lucky yours love each other. You’re lucky you have a sibling too.” I raised my to-go cup to my mouth and lowered it abruptly. “What is she like?”

“Who?”

“Your s-sister. It sounds like you’re close.”

“We are.” Scott smiled, then did a double take when he noticed my teeth chattering. “Hey, you’re freezing. We should start walking back.”

“No, no. It’s o-okay.”

He looked as though he was about to argue, but he scooted closer to me instead and put his arm over my shoulder. I thought I was going to melt like cheddar cheese on a hot skillet.

Thankfully, Scott didn’t seem to notice. He took another sip of tea and nodded a greeting at a man walking his dog on the nearby path.

“Heather’s cool,” he said after a moment. “You’d like her.”

“Do you look alike?”

“I guess. We both have brown hair and brown eyes. She’s short, though. Like you.”

I frowned. “I’m not short. You’re just huge.”

He waggled his brows. “I sure am.”

“I wasn’t referring to the size of your penis,” I huffed primly.

Scott snickered like a teenager. “You sure?”