problem. I’ve really enjoyed having you stay. I was fully prepared to be alone and do nothing but watch movies, but having someone to talk to has been . . . well, it’s been great.” He blushed and looked decidedly uncomfortable, and I missed his touch when he let his hand fall away.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I’d hate to be a bother. I could make you dinner as a thank you. But a word of warning, I’m not a very good cook, and as long as you have a fire extinguisher handy, we’ll be fine. And maybe an evacuation plan, just in case.”
He chuckled again. “Or I could cook you dinner. I rather like my house not on fire, thanks.”
I sighed, long and loud. “I really am very grateful. Thank you. For everything.”
Ren met my gaze, his blue eyes glittering like the snow. “You’re welcome. And like I said before, I’ve enjoyed having you stay.”
“We can talk about all the gayness things you don’t get to talk about with the good folks here. Whatever you want,” I said adamantly. “Project Runway, Ru Paul’s Drag Race, Schitt’s Creek, Xena, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe.”
“He-Man?”
I nodded, very matter of fact. “Long boots, a harness, and a codpiece.”
Ren burst out laughing. “Don’t forget his broadsword.”
I gasped. “You get it.”
Smiling, with his hand on my lower back, he nodded to his truck. “Come on, let’s go home.”
Chapter Six
Ren
Home. I just said “let’s go home” like it was our home, like he belonged there, and I couldn’t even be mad about it. It just rolled off my tongue and it felt nice.
Okay, so nice was an understatement, but to call it anything else would have called for closer examination and I wasn’t quite ready to go there yet.
Words like wonderful and exciting, and the scariest one of all . . . it felt right.
I wasn’t ready to examine that yet. To pull that apart would mean admitting the fact that I did want someone in my life and that a life of loneliness was not what I wanted like I’d convinced myself I did.
Having Hamish stay, even for just one or two days, was enough for me to realise that maybe I didn’t have to settle for a half-life. Maybe I didn’t have to settle for loneliness as a trade-off for wanting to live in Hartbridge.
“Should we call into a supermarket? If you’re going to cook dinner, the least I could do is buy the stuff for it,” Hamish asked as we walked over to my truck. Then he stopped. “Oh, does Hartbridge have a supermarket?”
I laughed. “I’ll have you know, we have the wonderful Hartbridge Home Market. Sells everything we could ever need.” I opened my door. “Between you and me, it’s about the size of a 7-Eleven and I have to order a lot of stuff online.”
Hamish laughed and pulled his door open. I put Chutney in the truck, and as soon as Hamish climbed in, she was on his lap, the both of them grinning out the window. “We don’t need any food for dinner. My fridge is stocked full. Unless you needed anything?”
“No, I don’t need anything,” he said happily. “Well, apart from thermal underwear and decent gloves, and boots more appropriate for snow, but I highly doubt your Home Market sells those.”
“Ah, we have men’s apparel at Harold’s,’ I explained. “But he’s closed for the holidays. Same for the fishing and rec store down by the river. Everyone closes for the three days, sorry.”
“I don’t mind,” he replied, seemingly happy enough. I was glad he wasn’t too upset over not being able to see his sister. I could understand his disappointment and I did feel sorry for him, but there was a tiny piece of me that was selfishly not disappointed he was staying another night.
Main Street was as good as empty, so I pulled the truck up alongside the curb and pointed to my windowfront. “There’s my second home.” The sign clearly read Hartbridge Hardware, so I didn’t need to explain. The building itself was mostly brown brick and siding with an awning out the front, and while the sign looked vintage, it was new and just made to look that way.
Hamish looked at it for a long time, and when he turned to me, his eyes were warm and kind. “It’s gorgeous.”
I don’t know why that made me so happy. He could have been indifferent or not cared at all, or worse, thought it was