“Okay,” Cozy said. “It’s funny. I was going to try and find a way to talk to you about it today too.”
“You see? We think alike,” he said, smiling. “At least where Buck and Dottie’s budding romance is concerned.”
“Budding romance?” Cozy giggled.
“Yeah. Isn’t that what you girls call it?” he teased.
“I guess we do think alike,” she admitted.
“What else do you think?” he inquired.
“About what?”
“About anything.”
Cozy thought for a moment. “Hmm. Too nonspecific. You have to offer me a subject.”
“Okay.” He frowned and was quiet for a few seconds. “What do you think about kids?”
“Do you mean other people’s kids?”
“Other people’s kids and having ones of your own,” he specified. “Answer honestly now.”
“Okay…honestly…I love kids,” she said. “But I know I’ll like my kids more than I like other people’s kids.”
Jesse nodded with approval. He liked her answer—and he liked her honesty.
“So you want to have kids?” he asked next. “How many?”
Cozy shrugged. “At least three, but less than six. How about you?”
“I like kids too. But I agree that I’ll like my kids more than I’ll like other people’s kids.”
Jesse frowned a moment. Was he subconsciously fishing—trying to find out how Cozy Robbins felt about family for his own reasons? He’d already decided to pursue her—whether or not things worked out between his grandpa and her grandmother. But he didn’t want to freak her out and scare her off either. Still, she answered honestly—hadn’t seemed uncomfortable about the question.
“How many kids to you want?” she asked.
He smiled. “More than one, less than five,” he answered honestly.
She giggled and nodded her approval.
She looked so cute in her little red coat! Again he thought he was too much the wolf where his intentions toward her were concerned. But he couldn’t help it.
“My turn,” she said then. “Name the president of the United States that you think was the greatest.”
“Wow! Politics,” he chuckled. “Don’t be shy, now, Little Red. Get right to the serious stuff.”
“You asked about kids,” she reminded him. “That’s serious.”
“I guess,” he admitted. “Hmm. I can only choose one, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay…and I realize I’m being very brave here…taking a chance that you might gouge my eyes out if I answer wrong,” he began. He paused however.
“It’s an opinion question,” she giggled. “Not a life or death one.”
“Okay then…at the risk of sounding cliché, I really would have to go with Abraham Lincoln,” he said. “There. I’ve said it.” He looked to her to see her smiling as if she had some secret delight. “And you’re not running or gouging out my eyes.”
“Nope,” she said. “You just named my first choice too.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Okay,” he sighed. “My turn.” He was pensive for a moment, trying to decide what he could ask her that would reveal something about her character he wanted to know. He already knew she was beautiful, kind, family-oriented, and smart. But there was more he wanted to know. In truth, he wanted to know everything about her. In truth, he hoped that someday he would.
“Your feelings on premarital…um…intimacy…are?”
Cozy nearly passed out! Had he really asked her what she thought about sex before marriage? Or had she misunderstood?
“D-do you mean intimacy as in kissing, cuddling, hugging?” she ventured.
“Intimacy as in the ultimate intimacy between a man and a woman,” Jesse clarified.
Cozy was trembling. “And you thought I was brazen for bringing up politics?”
“Come on. Be brave, Little Red,” he urged her. “I’m not going to eat you because of your answer.”
“But will you still walk home with me no matter what my answer is?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Of course.”
Cozy still paused a moment. She knew very well that most men would think her answer was wrong—that most men would dub her a prude for it. Yet she had to take the risk. And besides, she knew Jesse’s reaction to her answer would be very telling.
“I-I think the ultimate intimacy between a man and a woman, as you call it, should only take place after marriage…with the person you’re married to, of course.” There! She’d said it, and the chips would have to fall where they would.
“Agreed,” he said as if the question had been the most trivial in the world. “So…I’m guessing your grandma feels the same way?”
Cozy was simultaneously relieved that Jesse held to a high moral standard and disappointed that he hadn’t been asking her the question because he wanted to know where she stood on the issue but rather because he wanted to know where her grandmother stood.
“Of course,” she answered a little too tersely.
“Good. Grandpa’s that way too,” he said. “I just wanted to be sure it was safe to leave those two kids alone in the house together.” He winked at her, and it softened her indignation a little.
“Okay, your turn,” he prodded.
“I’m at a loss for words,” she admitted. “You trumped me on the bold question meter.”
He laughed. “Okay. I’ll let you off the hook.”
“Do you have to work tomorrow?” she asked him. She wasn’t even sure why she asked, but the question had just popped into her head as a change of subject.
“Yeah,” he answered. “We got a big decorating job downtown, and I think my crew will need the extra help if they’re going to get it finished in time.”
“I didn’t know electricians were so into decorating for Christmas,” she teased.
He shrugged. “It’s a job site with a paycheck attached. It could be worse.”
Cozy smiled. She liked that he did Christmas lights. She liked that he was willing to work alongside the men in his crew.
“What about you?” he began. “Are you a Black Friday shopper?”
Cozy shook her head. “I’m finished with my Christmas gifts and shopping. I’m a Black Friday gift wrapper. Every year Grandma and I get together and wrap. We put on the Christmas music, drag the pretty wrapping stuff out of the garage—”
“Drink mulled cider…” he interjected.
Cozy giggled, “Exactly. It’s one of my favorite days of the year. I absolutely avoid the mall and stuff if I can possibly help it.” She glanced to him. “How about you? Do you have gifts to get for people?”
“A couple…but I make most of mine.”
“You make them? You mean like…arts and crafts? Like those little key chains braided out of leather strips boys make at scout camps and stuff?”
“No,” he answered, smiling. “Though I do know how to make those.”
“Why am I not surprised?” she teased.
“No. My gifts are homemade, but there’s no glue, tape, or strips of leather involved. Just sugar and dead animals.”
“What?” Cozy asked, wrinkling her nose. “Are you, like, a taxidermist slash sugar beet farmer or something?”
“No. But that would be an interesting theme for, like, a serial killer movie or something.” He chuckled. “No. I make my own beef jerky. That’s where the dead animals come in.” He winked at her.
“And the sugar?” she asked.
“Baby…my roasted raspberry almonds will change your life,” he answered.
Just the fact that he’d called her baby was enough to send her heart pounding like a meat tenderizer. But the fact that he’d mention almond and raspberry in the same breath made her mouth water.
“Raspberry almonds?” she squeaked. He’d really thrown her for a loop with the baby thing.
“Yep. It’s an old family recipe,” he explained. Lowering his voice, he teas
ed, “We’re all very secretive about it.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“But seriously, me and Grandpa are the only ones who still know how to make them.” His smile faded a bit. “My parents used to get us all together when we were kids, and we’d make them. We’d make hundreds of pounds of them…literally. Some of them we gave to friends and neighbors on Christmas Eve as gifts, and some of them we sold to other people who wanted them.” He looked at her, his smile returning. “Kind of like your ornaments, you know?”
“It sounds like a lot of work,” Cozy said.
“Yeah.” He winked at her. “But making ornaments out of walnuts is unfathomable to me.” His eyebrows suddenly arched as if inspiration had only just hit him. “Hey! We’re like soul mates or something. We both do Christmas stuff that revolves around nuts.”
Cozy laughed. He was too funny! “Yeah, I guess we do,” she said. “So you still make these raspberry almonds every year?”
“Yeah. Me and Grandpa do it. They’re awesome!” He looked at her and winked. “Seriously, you’ll never be the same once you’ve tasted them. They change your life.”
“I can’t wait to try them then.”
“They’re delicious,” he said. “You’d think I’d be tired of them after all these years…that they wouldn’t be special. But they are. I suppose they remind me of my parents and the good old days before my brothers all decided money was more important than anything else. Either way, Grandpa and I are the only ones who still make them…but all three of my brothers still like to get them for Christmas.”
“How do I get on the list?” Cozy asked. “You can’t tempt me with something raspberry-flavored that will change my life and then deprive me of it. That’s mean.”
“Oh, believe me, Little Red Riding Hood,” he chuckled, “there are several things this big bad wolf could tempt you with that would change your life.”
Cozy gasped, simultaneously thrilled and astonished at his implication. “Well, I guess I walked right into that one,” she said, shaking her head.
“You sure did,” he confirmed. “But to answer your question, there’s nothing you have to do to get on my list. You’re already on it.”
“Well, how much do I owe you then?” she asked as the word payback began to flash in her mind.
“Nothing. They’ll be my Christmas gift to you and your grandma,” he answered.
“So I’m expected to take your money for my goofy walnut ornaments, but you won’t let me pay for your almonds?” she challenged.
“Apples and watermelons, Cozy Robbins,” he said. “My almonds and jerky are my gifts to people. Your walnuts are your business. And besides, I really did want them for my tree, and we didn’t know each other as well way back then.”
“Way back then?” Cozy exclaimed in amused disbelief. “It was a week ago, Jesse Bryant.”
He shrugged. “A week is a long time in certain situations.”
“You’re just squiggling out of it,” she told him.
“Listen, Cozy,” he began, “my raspberry almonds…after you’ve tasted them, you’ll forgive me for anything…even paying you for your ornaments.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, smiling as he took hold of her arm to stop their walk and turned her to face them.
“After you’ve had my raspberry almonds, you won’t care whether I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing…or a taxidermist slash beet-farmer serial-killer. You’ll be completely under my control.”
“Wow!” she said with extra dramatics. “Those must be some raspberry almonds.”
“You’re damn right,” he confirmed.
Cozy’s eyebrows arched at the strength of his assurance. “Well, then…I can’t wait to try them.”
He smiled at her, and she nearly melted into a puddle of warm syrup at his feet. His expression was rather…well, rather wolfish—as if he were a sly predator and she his prey.
“There’s a bench,” he said then, pointing to a place behind her. “Do you wanna sit and watch the leaves for a while?”
“I’d love it,” she answered—and she knew she would.
❦
Time became irrelevant to Cozy as she sat on the bench with Jesse beneath a canopy of gold‑leafed cottonwoods. They talked about seemingly everything under the sun—from what their favorite Italian foods were to the state of the national economy. They planned ways in which to create moments of privacy for their grandparents. They laughed over embarrassing experiences they’d each had—even told stupid jokes to one another.
And there was more. Cozy loved lingering in Jesse’s presence—bathed in the unfamiliar bliss of it—the way his strong body emanated a masculine heat that warmed her as he sat next to her on the bench. She reveled in the way he’d lean back and stretch, resting his arms on the back of the bench with one positioned across her back. And every so often, as the autumn breezes would whisper through the trees, they’d pause—watching as leaves of bright yellow-gold drifted down from the branches overhead, the rustle of the leaves in the street and the sidewalk seeming to be the only sound in the world.
In fact, it wasn’t until the sun began to set that Cozy even realized how long they’d been gone—hours! The Thanksgiving meal had ended at one p.m., and she knew the sun had been setting at about six in the evening. Surely they couldn’t have been gone four hours!
“I suppose we should get back,” Jesse said, as if he’d been reading her most recent thoughts. “Your grandma will think the wolf in me won out and I’ve devoured you or something.”
“I should get back and start the dishes,” Cozy sighed. “I’m sure they’re piled to the ceiling by now.”
“Come on then,” Jesse said, standing and offering a hand to her to help her. “I’ll help you so Grandpa and Dottie can have some time together.”
Cozy smiled and placed her hand in his. She stood, disappointed that her time alone with Jesse was over.
“Thanks for coming with me,” she said as they started back up the sidewalk.
“Thanks for rescuing me from playing zoo,” he chuckled.
“Oh, you loved it,” she teased him.
He shrugged. “It was okay…but I’m more of a little green plastic army men kind of guy.”
“Well, all I know is, I can’t wait for Christmas now,” Cozy sighed. “You and your raspberry almonds. My mouth is watering.”
“For me? Or the almonds?” he teased with a wink.
“You’re so bad!” she scolded, playfully slapping his arm.
“Grrr,” he growled, winking at her.
Cozy giggled when he began whistling “Li’l Red Riding Hood” as they walked home beneath an orange sunset autumn sky.
Chapter Six
All through the next day, Cozy Robbins felt as if she were skipping along beside her grandmother on that old proverbial cloud nine. In truth, she was beside her grandmother all the next day—only they were reveling in wrapping Christmas gifts, drinking cider, and baking cookies together. Still, whenever Cozy even thought about Jesse Bryant, butterflies erupted in her stomach, and she couldn’t help but smile.
Furthermore, her grandmother had explained early in the day that Buck had been very attentive to her after the dinner guests had all left. He’d been there when Jesse and Cozy returned from their walk, of course—which was much more than Cozy could say for anyone else. Everyone had left long before they had returned from their walk, including Cozy’s family. She’d felt guilty for a moment too, at having not been there to say good-bye to her Aunt Carol, Uncle Ethan, and cousins. But her guilt hadn’t lingered long, for the sheer pleasure of being isolated in Jesse’s company for so long was worth the sacrifice of propriety. These emotions confused Cozy at first, for she wasn’t one to neglect people’s feelings. They were a little frightening too. For the first time in her life, Cozy had chosen someone else above her family and friends—Jesse. Moreover, she had consciously determined that she would do the same thing again if the opportunity arose. She liked him t
hat much; she was that drawn to him.
Oh, she didn’t harbor too many unrealistic fantasies where Jesse Bryant was concerned. After all, it was hard to believe that a man like him even existed—let alone that a man like Jesse would find Cozy interesting enough to really have any sort of serious relationship with.
Even so, her grandmother was encouraging—unknowingly, of course—but encouraging all the same. All the day long, Cozy’s grandmother had spoken of her insecurities where Buck was concerned—her inability to believe she could really capture his heart.
“I mean, surely a man like Buckly Bryant could never see anything in me that would be so unique or special enough to waste too much time on. Not for any real length of time anyway,” Dottie said as she handed Cozy a piece of transparent gift-wrap tape.
“Grandma,” Cozy began, “believe me…Buck adores you. I know he does. Don’t be such a doubtful chicken.”
“Chicken?” Dottie exclaimed with playful indignation. “I sat closer to him on the couch last night than I ever have. How does that qualify me as a chicken?”
“You’re right,” Cozy admitted. “I guess what I was really trying to say is…go for it! Don’t be afraid to let him know how much you like him.”
“Hmm,” Dottie hummed. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, sweet pea?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Cozy said, playing ignorant.
“What did go on between you two yesterday, anyway?” Dottie asked. “You were gone for hours and hours.”
Cozy shrugged. “We just went for a walk, that’s all. It was a little crazy in the house, and we both wanted to get some fresh air.”
“That was a lot of fresh air.”
“We’re talking about you, Grandma…not me,” Cozy reminded.
“Well then…let’s talk about something else,” Dottie said, smiling. “How is work?”
Instantly, Cozy’s stomach began to churn. “The same,” she said. She wouldn’t tell her grandmother about the new male customer who was harassing her at the café. Though Cozy confided nearly everything to her grandma, she wouldn’t worry her with that. “Boring, stressful, and I hate it.”
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