Page 14 of Dark Christmas
“What do you prefer?” he asks, scanning the labels.
“Uh... box wine?” I joke, then immediately feel my face heat up.
Oh my God, why did I say that?
He doesn’t miss a beat, laughing softly. “Does your box come in red or white?”
I feel the heat spread from my cheeks down my neck.
“Red.”
Chapter 8
Melor
I’m completely charmed by her.
She’s the opposite of pretentious, and after the women I’ve dated in the past, it’s refreshing. There’s something genuine about her, a little bit shy but not in a way that feels forced—like she’s still figuring me out as well as herself.
I find myself glancing up from the stove, watching her as she watches me. The way she nervously fidgets with the hem of her shirt, or how she bites her lip when she thinks I’m not looking—it’s adorable.
“So,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence, “what do you like best about baking?”
She blinks as if caught off guard, but then her eyes light up. “I don’t know, there’s something magical about it. You take a bunch of simple ingredients—flour, sugar, butter—and with the right care, you turn them into something that makes people happy. I love how it’s both science and art. You have to be precise, but there’s room to be creative, too.”
Her passion spills out in her words, and I can’t help but be drawn to it. So many people lack passion, drifting through life without truly caring about what they do. She’s different. It’s rare.
Once dinner’s ready, I plate up the beef stroganoff and place the dishes on the counter.
“Could you grab the wine and two glasses from the cupboard?” I ask, nodding toward the kitchen cabinet. “We’ll take everything to the dining room.”
She smiles, grabbing the bottle and glasses, and I watch her, as if under a spell.
We walk into the dining room, plates in hand, and I grab a loaf of bread from the kitchen counter on the way. The room is as pristine as ever, and I find myself admitting something I rarely do.
“I’ve never actually used this room for anything except business meetings.”
She laughs, the sound light and airy. “That’s a shame. It’s beautiful in here.”
She’s right, of course. The dining room is big and spacious, with high ceilings and tall windows that overlook the back garden. The sweeping view of the meticulously kept greenery outside adds a touch of serenity to the room. A long, dark wood table stretches out before us, perfectly polished, surrounded by plush chairs that have barely been sat in.
We sit down and get settled in and I pour the wine. I hold my glass up, meeting her eyes.
“To unexpected company,” I say. It feels appropriate. This night wasn’t planned but I’m already enjoying it more than Ianticipated.
“To unexpected company,” she repeats with a smile, clinking her glass against mine.
We each take a sip, then she digs into the beef stroganoff. After her first bite her eyes widen, and she makes a soft, satisfied sound.
“Oh my God, this is amazing! I’m definitely going to need the recipe.”
I smile, watching her enjoy the meal. “I’m glad you like it.”
She takes a few more bites, savoring each one before she washes it down with a sip of wine. Then, she looks at me, curiosity in her eyes.
“So, you’re in cybersecurity?”
I pause, realizing I’m not used to people asking me about my work. When they do, it’s never for personal interest. Still, there’s no harm in answering.