“He’s nice. But of course, you know that,” I told Murphy. “You live with him, after all. But I didn’t know he’d be this nice. Like, genuine. Wholesome. Even if he seems lonely and a bit . . . detached.”
Murphy spotted a bunny, so I wrapped his leash around my hand. I wasn’t in the mood for eating dirt today.
When the rabbit took off, Murphy tried to give chase, but the tread on my boots held fast.
“Enough with the bunnies. More about your dad. I think I’m in trouble.”
Murphy focused on me, head tilting.
“Yeah. It was just ‘Geez, my boss is hot and sexy as sin’ before I opened up to him. I mean, what is that, even? Is it because I’m feeling vulnerable? And here he opened his home to me. He let me decorate how I wanted. And I gotta tell ya, Murph, the house looks great.”
It looked classy and masculine and not so Christmassy that you wanted to gouge your eyes out. And it looked distinct enough from how my mom decorated that I wasn’t so homesick I wanted to weep.
“But maybe that’s it,” I whispered, not sure if I was talking to myself or Murphy now. Who was I kidding? I was always talking to myself. “I’m making something new, building a life here, something on my own. And I’ve been doing it ever since I arrived on campus four years ago. I just didn’t realize it until now.” I shrugged as I turned the corner that would take us back to Gregg’s place.
“I’m still figuring it all out, Murph. But I know one thing: I think Gregg is great. He’s more than sexy. He’s kind. I like that. And Lord knows, I could use a kind friend right now. So I can’t fuck this up.”
“You look like the abominable snowman,” Gregg said through a laugh that had him doubled over.
“Then show me how to use your damn mixer that has an engine big enough to power a fighter jet.”
Gregg snorted another laugh. “Got that white Christmas, huh?”
Flour and sugar covered me, and I was laughing so hard, tears streamed, turning my cheeks into a doughy mess.
Once all the dry ingredients had been added to the mixing bowl—heaping because we’d made a double batch—I’d turned it on to “give it a little mix” as instructed.
But I turned it to high, thinking it would get done faster. You know, why use a power tool on low when more torque will get the job done quicker?
What followed was a flour blizzard. And my jaw-to-the-floor shock . . . until the laughter bubbled out in fits and starts before consuming me.
So now the countertop, the floor, the backsplash, and I were white as snow. With each blink, I saw my coated lashes.
“No, get outta here, Murph. You can’t eat this.” Gregg corralled the beast into the living room and reemerged a minute later with a gate. “I haven’t needed the puppy gate for a long time.”
I was already scooping flour from the countertop back into the bowl to salvage what I’d destroyed. “How much did we lose? Should we add more flour?”
Gregg snickered when he saw my face once more, but he beat it into submission. “Let’s see how it looks once we add the wet ingredients. But I think you mixed the dry well enough.” Another snort.
My cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I was positive I looked ridiculous, but I didn’t give a shit. This was exactly what I needed. Some good, clean fun. To laugh and shoot the shit. To find joy in something simple like baking cookies with a friend.
I watched as Gregg measured out the peanut butter, milk, and vanilla. “Here. Put in the butter. But mix it on low this time.”
My eyes widened. “Two whole sticks?”
He nodded and shot me that eye-crinkling smile. “I make these once a year for a reason. They’re my favorite. Paige’s too, and I’m sending her half so I don’t gain ten pounds in a week. Do you even like these?”
“Love ’em.”
“Well, let’s get these ingredients mixed so we can roll out the balls of dough. We’ve got a lot of balls to roll.”
I was suddenly thankful for the mask of flour as my cheeks heated.
Showered, dressed, and three peanut blossoms later, Gregg and I were on our way downtown to shop. I had to buy for everyone, but since it all had to be shipped, I couldn’t go crazy.
Downtown Nutgrove was cozy, nestled in a river valley, and framed by rolling hills once filled with nut trees, hence the name. Stone buildings with impressive edifices lined Hazelnut Drive, the main drag.
I’d spent little time downtown because I could walk across the footbridge near campus and get everything I needed at Target.
But as we entered a weird little shop that smelled of incense and essential oils, I wondered what I’d been missing. Tapestries and rugs hung from the wall. Someone had painted black mandalas on the hardwood floors. In the back, a curtain of beads hung below a sign that read Adults Only. Little bells tinkled as a woman with long gray hair trailing down her back slipped through it.
“Hello, and welcome to Dwell,” she said. “You have the look about you that says this is your first trip here. What can I help you find?”
I looked back at Gregg, engrossed in greeting cards that lined a wall. “Uh . . . gifts I can ship without breaking the bank. For a variety of people.”
“Who are you buying for?”
I pulled out my list, and she scanned it before I told her a little about each person.
“I’m Edie.” This was the woman Gregg had mentioned.
“Uh . . . Sawyer.”
“Good to meet you. Now that we’re on a first-name basis, let’s get what you need.”
I followed her around the store as she asked questions and helped me find the perfect gift for each person, and nothing broke the bank. She was amazing. Then she promised to wrap and box everything up and get it in the mail for me.
“You’re like the gift whisperer,” I told her as she ran my debit card and I gripped the bag holding Gregg’s gift.
She winked. “When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, you get good at reading people.”
“Oh?”
She quirked a brow and grinned. “You’re on a fresh path that was just laid out before you, and you’re not sure you trust it quite yet.”
“Are you a seer or something?” I asked around a chuckle.
“No, just observant. You’re sending gifts to Duluth to immediate family, not delivering them in person, which tells me you’re not going home for Christmas. And you came in with Gregg, who was smiling your way like I’ve not seen in a decade.”
I flushed just as Gregg stepped up beside me, slid his arm around my shoulder, and squeezed it. “Wanna get coffee once we’re done?”
“Sure.” I faced Edie again and thanked her.
I wandered around while Gregg completed his transaction and tried to absorb everything in the eclectic store I’d barely mapped. This wasn’t a place you visited once.
“Shall we,” Gregg said as he walked around a corner I’d not explored. A coffeehouse and bookstore. Stuffed, black bookshelves lined the back half of the space.
I couldn’t help but gawk. Dwell spanned two buildings if the header beam in the brick wall told tales. I wanted to explore, but the bookshelves drew my attention.