was simmering. She turned off the small pot and poured the liquid into coffee mugs, keeping the stick in the pot. After setting them on the tray she gathered her things and went outside, hearing James’ grunts and complaints along the way.
“I hope you like cider and cookies,” she asked pushing the screen with her foot and stepping out onto the porch.
Evan saw her and rose from his seat and took the tray from her. Setting it down on the small, knee-high resin wicker table that sat between two dark brown matching chairs, Evan waited for her to take a seat. The classic furniture complimented the blue color of Evan’s family home with its light brown trim. The air outside was crisp for early December but not too cold to enjoy a moment outside.
The back porch had a high fence and only gave a view of other houses around them in the neighborhood, but she still enjoyed the sight. They sat in silence for some time while Evan nibbled on a cookie, she sipped her cider.
“These are good, what brand are they? I’ll have to pick some up before my next flight.” He stared down at his half eaten treat as if he were looking for some trademark symbol or name.
“Zoey Carliegh brand.”
He glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. “You made these?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “What nurses aren’t supposed to be able to know how to cook?”
“Not that, just with you having to serve my father all day, I just didn’t think you’d have the time.”
“Ahh, well your father dozes a lot and when he’s up he likes to enjoy his shows in peace which gives me some time on my hands. They were my favorite childhood treat for Christmas and now I make them once a month for myself.”
“Why wait for Santa?”
“That’s right. Besides, they would never make it sitting out with a glass of milk waiting for him to come.”
His bark of laughter was nice. “A girl after my own heart.”
Those words made her heart flutter. Taking a deep breath she shifted her gaze back to the other houses to keep her thoughts under control. There was an attraction between her and Evan but that didn’t mean that anything would come from it.
“Hey, aren’t I supposed to be getting a massage?” His finger brushed the back of her hand, gaining her attention.
“That’s right.” She set her mug down and rose.
“You were probably just being kind. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, I’ll live.” He pouted his bottom lip out, appearing the sullen boy.
Smiling, she said, “I want to. Besides, a promise is a promise.”
Moving behind his chair, she stood just staring at his wide shoulders and trying to control the slight tremble in her hands. Not wanting to waste too much time and have him turn around wondering what was taking her so long, she laid her hands on the side of his neck and began to knead the muscles softly. His skin was hot, warming her hands and taking away the chill that had begun to set in her fingers from the outside air.
“Are you cold? Should I have brought you a blanket?”
“No, this is perfect.” His words were low, husky almost a moan as he lowered his head to give her more access.
She couldn’t agree more with his assessment of the situation. Her hands worked down along the muscles below his neck and she pressed her thumbs deep into the thick, hard tissue. She was no professional masseuse but even she could feel the knots that were balled under her fingers.
He groaned, “God, that feels good.”
Time passed as she worked the area of his upper back, shoulders and neck. When she ran her hands up into his short, silken hair to rub lightly, not wanting to hurt him, he rotated his neck, rolling his head around working in concert with her touch. Soon, she found her hands lost in the illustrious, now dry strands; her fingers were doing more stroking than massaging. She lightly grazed her nails along his scalp loving the small shiver that rocked his body letting her know she was doing something he
“I hope you like cider and cookies,” she asked pushing the screen with her foot and stepping out onto the porch.
Evan saw her and rose from his seat and took the tray from her. Setting it down on the small, knee-high resin wicker table that sat between two dark brown matching chairs, Evan waited for her to take a seat. The classic furniture complimented the blue color of Evan’s family home with its light brown trim. The air outside was crisp for early December but not too cold to enjoy a moment outside.
The back porch had a high fence and only gave a view of other houses around them in the neighborhood, but she still enjoyed the sight. They sat in silence for some time while Evan nibbled on a cookie, she sipped her cider.
“These are good, what brand are they? I’ll have to pick some up before my next flight.” He stared down at his half eaten treat as if he were looking for some trademark symbol or name.
“Zoey Carliegh brand.”
He glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. “You made these?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “What nurses aren’t supposed to be able to know how to cook?”
“Not that, just with you having to serve my father all day, I just didn’t think you’d have the time.”
“Ahh, well your father dozes a lot and when he’s up he likes to enjoy his shows in peace which gives me some time on my hands. They were my favorite childhood treat for Christmas and now I make them once a month for myself.”
“Why wait for Santa?”
“That’s right. Besides, they would never make it sitting out with a glass of milk waiting for him to come.”
His bark of laughter was nice. “A girl after my own heart.”
Those words made her heart flutter. Taking a deep breath she shifted her gaze back to the other houses to keep her thoughts under control. There was an attraction between her and Evan but that didn’t mean that anything would come from it.
“Hey, aren’t I supposed to be getting a massage?” His finger brushed the back of her hand, gaining her attention.
“That’s right.” She set her mug down and rose.
“You were probably just being kind. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, I’ll live.” He pouted his bottom lip out, appearing the sullen boy.
Smiling, she said, “I want to. Besides, a promise is a promise.”
Moving behind his chair, she stood just staring at his wide shoulders and trying to control the slight tremble in her hands. Not wanting to waste too much time and have him turn around wondering what was taking her so long, she laid her hands on the side of his neck and began to knead the muscles softly. His skin was hot, warming her hands and taking away the chill that had begun to set in her fingers from the outside air.
“Are you cold? Should I have brought you a blanket?”
“No, this is perfect.” His words were low, husky almost a moan as he lowered his head to give her more access.
She couldn’t agree more with his assessment of the situation. Her hands worked down along the muscles below his neck and she pressed her thumbs deep into the thick, hard tissue. She was no professional masseuse but even she could feel the knots that were balled under her fingers.
He groaned, “God, that feels good.”
Time passed as she worked the area of his upper back, shoulders and neck. When she ran her hands up into his short, silken hair to rub lightly, not wanting to hurt him, he rotated his neck, rolling his head around working in concert with her touch. Soon, she found her hands lost in the illustrious, now dry strands; her fingers were doing more stroking than massaging. She lightly grazed her nails along his scalp loving the small shiver that rocked his body letting her know she was doing something he
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