A Lost Claus: Claus for Christmas by Chloe James

Author:Chloe James [James, Chloe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chloe James
Published: 2024-01-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Two

Heather

December 17th…

When Dante comes downstairs, I’m already in the kitchen, whipping up the batter for cinnamon French toast and waffles. I wasn’t sure which he’d prefer, so I wanted to give him options.

“You’re really here,” he softly says. “I was worried it had been a dream.”

“It wasn’t,” I assure him.

“Still feels as if you’re a dream.” Who knew beneath the suits he wore as if they were armor resided such a sweet man?

“Thank you,” I respond, unsure how to graciously accept the compliment that makes me want to dance around the room in happiness. That might have him second guessing his sentiment, labeling me a nightmare instead.

Me, dancing, should not be witnessed. It’s scary.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Plentiful,” I tell him, desperately needing it yet not wanting to overstep too far by preparing it myself. Caffeine is a sacred thing and cannot be handled inappropriately.

Made too weak and there’s no recovering. Too strong and the walls might not withstand the constant bouncing of energy. Especially as we can’t really go outside and expel some of it.

A chuckle follows that and I watch as he sets up his maker, trying to make a mental note of how many scoops he uses, whether they’re heaping or not, and the amount of water. I’m pleased when he chooses a full pot, with three rather large scoops, before pressing the brew button.

“Thought about one of those pod things,” he mutters, his voice a bit deeper from sleep still. “But I like the process of making it.”

“I get that,” I tell him. “Sometimes a routine is comforting. You know what’s expected of you, taking away the need for guessing.”

“I’m seeing that being surprised can be far more exciting, though.” He’s staring at me, leaving no doubt that he’s implying to my being here.

Blushing, I begin to pour the batter into the waffle maker I’d unearthed from one of his cupboards, then turn to dip bread in a bowl of the same mixture.

“I couldn’t find any syrup,” I inform him.

“Oh shoot. Turn it all off, throw it away. There’s no point in eating without it.” He can’t be serious. Glancing at him, I see him grinning as he produces a clearly brand new bottle as he exits a pantry.

“Take a spoonful of that now,” I tease him. “Maybe it’ll sweeten you up.”

“Or you could just give me a kiss.”

Liking that compromise, I lean forward to place one on his cheek, tickled when he shifts so that my lips touch his. It’s brief, yet a promise that more is to come.

Yay me.

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