She also tugged on a pair of thick socks that were not warm and snugly (even though they were).
She found there were no shoes but she didn’t need shoes.
Yet.
She walked out of the bathroom and grabbed the bags (taking three trips) and carted them back into the big room.
She made the bed (angrily) as she heard Callum chop, chop, chopping outside. Sometimes, she’d hear him stop and approach the house and she’d get tense but he did it only to stack the logs on the back porch because he never came inside.
She found coffee, poured herself a cup and yanked open the refrigerator to find Callum had stocked it only with full-fat milk.
Of course.
He knew her clothing size but he didn’t know she religiously had to drink skim in order to fit in it.
Jerk!
She made breakfast for the both of them and surprisingly she heard the backdoor open the minute she was done.
She heard his boots on the floor as she was busily taking the plates from warming in the oven.
He stopped at the mouth of the u-shaped kitchen.
She didn’t turn. If she did, she might throw something at him.
Or cry.
Or both.
“Sonia?” he called.
“Yep,” she said, flipping the oven closed with her foot and still not looking at him.
“You okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.
Jerk!
“Much better,” she replied, busily loading food on their plates. “Breakfast is ready.”
“I know.”
That got a reaction. She turned to look at him and was reminded of the gargantuan joke the cosmos was playing on her because he was way, way, way too darned handsome.
She buried that thought and asked, “How did you know?”
“Smelled it. Heard it,” he replied and turned while finishing, “I’ll be there after I wash up.”
Since he was turning, he didn’t see her mouth had dropped open.
Okay, she was cooking bacon. You could smell bacon from a mile away.
But he heard it?
How?
She, of course, could hear the final preparations of breakfast.
She watched him disappear into the bathroom as she felt a shiver run up her spine and decided to bury that too.