A consistent tapping woke Ruby from a deep, sensual dream. She groaned and covered her head with a pillow to block the sunshine streaming in through the gap in the curtains, willing the dream to come back. The tapping started again. Throwing the pillow off, she glanced at the clock, reluctantly got out of bed, and peeked out the window, ready to yell at the pesky woodpecker that was making so much noise.
To her surprise, Seth stood on a ladder that leaned against the front porch, a roll of holiday lights in one hand. Seth. If only he knew what they had just done in her dream. She shook the thought away, dressed quickly, headed downstairs, and opened the front door. “What are you doing?”
“Hanging lights.”
“I can see that. Why are you hanging lights?”
“Because you said your favorite holiday was Christmas, and I hung lights for your grandmother last year. It cheered her up. I thought they’d cheer you up too.”
Sadness creeped in when she thought of last Christmas. When her office had closed for the holidays, she had boarded a plane to Bali with her friends. She and her grandmother had celebrated before she left, and Lynn had assured her she would have a nice time at the cabin. That was their last Christmas together.
“Thank you, that’s very kind. I was just going to start the coffee. Come in when you’re done and I’ll make you breakfast, or did you already eat?”
“Nope. Give me another hour and I’ll be in.”
* * *
Seth put the ladder back in the shed, knocked twice on the back door that led into the kitchen, and entered. The aroma of apples and cinnamon filled the room. Ruby’s red curls were pulled into a ponytail, and she was wearing her grandmother’s Kiss the Cook apron. She turned to him, and her breath hitched.
He removed his jacket and boots and took two long strides toward her. All night he’d dreamt of Ruby tangled in his sheets, but kissing her was the farthest he would let it go. She was doing him a favor by pretending to be his fiancée.
He smiled down at her and breathed in her subtle floral scent. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”
She lowered her eyes and bit her lip. “Great . . . and you?”
“Same.” He grinned.
Ruby placed a hand on his chest, but before she could say anything, the oven timer buzzed. “Breakfast is ready.” She stepped around him, opened the oven, and pulled out a deep-dish pan.
“Tell me that is your grandmother’s apple pannenkoeken.”
“It is. Have you had it?”
“Christmas last year.” His brow lifted. “I thought you didn’t cook?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I preferred baking, and this is closer to baking.”
He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. Have a seat. Coffee?”
“Definitely. I’ll get it.” He opened a cupboard and pulled out a ceramic mug, moved to the coffee carafe, and poured himself a cup. He motioned to her mug on the island. “Can I top yours off?”
“Please.”
He couldn’t help but notice how in sync they were in the kitchen, moving around each other as if they’d worked together most of their lives. This was becoming very domestic very fast. Was he ready for a relationship? He’d forced Ruby into one by blurting out their fake engagement. He was drawn to her, no question, but she worked in downtown Chicago and from what Lynn had told him, she loved her job. He and Lynn had joked that Ruby would run the place someday. They had different goals; he’d run away from the corporate life, and she loved it.
By the time he sat, Ruby had a large piece of apple pancake set in front of him, accompanied by a glass measuring cup filled with warmed syrup. “I remember your grandmother’s apple pancakes were delicious,” he said.
“They were one of her specialties. She used to make them individually, but she hated that we couldn’t eat as a family. Only four pancakes fit in the cast iron pan at a time. In those days we weren’t allowed to have syrup.”
He poured the syrup over his serving. “Really, no syrup on your pancakes? Why not?”
“Traditionally, her grandparents would sprinkle sugar on top. The batter was only flour, salt, egg, and milk, so the sugar was only needed if the apples were tart.”
“That sounds good too.” Seth dug into the light and fluffy pancake with its pecans and caramelized apples. “Delicious.”
“Thanks.”
He reached for his coffee. “I thought after this we could go get you a tree.” So much for slowing things down, Woods. He did promise Lynn, though.
“Really?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Ruby pushed a piece of pancake into her syrup. “I hadn’t decided if I would put one up here or not.” She took a bite.
“You don’t think Lynn would want you to?”
She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “It’s not that. She loved Christmas, and we always had a tree, but—”
“It’s settled then. I know just the place. I have one stop to make first if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Thanks.”
The last time Seth spoke with Lynn, before she moved to an assisted living apartment in the city, she’d grabbed his hand, held on tight, and said, “When Ruby comes here, promise me you will look out for her.”
He assured her he would, and she patted him on the cheek. “You and my Ruby would make the perfect couple. Now, if she’d just dump that boyfriend of hers . . .” She trailed off in thought. He just nodded.
Lynn had been right; they did make a great couple. He wondered if his insistence on having Ruby celebrate Christmas was because Lynn asked him to watch out for her, or because he wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. Both, he decided.
What was he doing? Was he making a mistake?