Read Online Sweet Christmas Kisses by Ginny Baird, Grace Greene, Donna Fasano, Helen Scott Taylor, Beate Boeker, Melinda Curtis, Denise Devine, Raine English, Aileen Fish, Patricia Forsythe, Mona Risk, Roxanne Rustand, Magdalena Scott, Kristin Wallace - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ginny Baird, Grace Greene, Donna Fasano, Helen Scott Taylor, Beate Boeker, Melinda Curtis, Denise Devine, Raine English, Aileen Fish, Patricia Forsythe, Mona Risk, Roxanne Rustand, Magdalena Scott, Kristin Wallace
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you’re hungry.”
The living room was a mess. A shirt, a jacket, shoes and socks were strewn about the furniture and floor. A messy pile of newspapers and mail sat on the coffee table along with dirty glasses, soda cans, a pizza box.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “The cleaning company should be here tomorrow. Or the next. I’m not quite sure. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Obviously,” Christy teased as she crossed the room. The goal was to keep things light. “The kitchen through here?”
“Yes.” He followed her.
She shoved a second pizza box over to make room on the counter for the groceries. After scanning the kitchen, she found a perfect spot for Izzie’s things—a desk area that looked clear and unused. He wouldn’t have to touch it until he was ready.
“We’ve been keeping this box for you at the hospital,” she said. “I thought I’d deliver it and save you a trip.”
Christy breezed back over to the bag she’d brought and began unloading lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, and the roasted chicken.
“When’s the last time you ate a vegetable?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, just stood in the kitchen doorway and watched her work.
The surprising weight of the pizza box had her peeking inside to see the now cold, dried-out pie had been untouched. “Let’s make that when’s the last time you ate?”
Again, he didn’t answer. The white, v-neck t-shirt he wore looked rumpled. His jeans sagged around his waist. The stubble shadowing his jaw looked at least three days old.
Finally, he said, “I order that stuff, but by the time it arrives—” he shrugged “—I’m just not hungry.”
Christy nodded as she pulled the head of red lettuce from its plastic bag. “Yeah, I can understand that. But you have to eat, Aaron. Even if it’s just a little bit.” She glanced at him and saw that he was staring at his bare feet.
“Why don’t you go have a shower while I make us lunch?” She put enough firmness into the words to make the question sound more like an order.
He said nothing, only sighed, and then left the kitchen.
She went right to work. She left the veggies and chicken on the counter and loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Then she pilfered through several cabinets, finally finding what she was looking for in the pantry. She shook out the large trash bag, tucked the disgusting pizza inside, then moved to the living room. Making an efficient, clock-wise circle, she tossed the trash, gathered up the clothes, hung up the jacket, set the shoes in the hall closet, and took the glasses into the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. She folded the blanket that was on the sofa and fluffed the throw pillows. After tying the trash bag securely, she set it outside the back door. Neither the living room nor the kitchen were in perfect order, but the rooms were in better shape than they had been.
She did one more thing while Aaron was busy upstairs; she slid the Claddagh ring off her finger and tucked it into one corner of the box that contained Izzie’s journal and her other things from the hospital. It was probably the coward’s way of returning the piece of jewelry, but Christy didn’t think Aaron was ready to come face to face with the memories that ring would conjure.
Then she took a deep breath, went to the sink to wash her hands, and moved on to preparing lunch. With the lettuce rinsed, the tomatoes and cucumbers chopped, the chicken pulled off the bone, Christy cleared the kitchen table and was just setting the plates on the placemats when Aaron rejoined her.
His clothes were fresh, his face was clean-shaven, his hair still damp. He looked good. Very good. Christy focused on placing a paper napkin beside each plate.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” he told her, his guilt almost palpable in the statement. “The cleaning people really are coming this week. Sometime. What day is it, anyway?”
“Tuesday,” she told him. Then she bustled him into a chair. “I
The living room was a mess. A shirt, a jacket, shoes and socks were strewn about the furniture and floor. A messy pile of newspapers and mail sat on the coffee table along with dirty glasses, soda cans, a pizza box.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “The cleaning company should be here tomorrow. Or the next. I’m not quite sure. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Obviously,” Christy teased as she crossed the room. The goal was to keep things light. “The kitchen through here?”
“Yes.” He followed her.
She shoved a second pizza box over to make room on the counter for the groceries. After scanning the kitchen, she found a perfect spot for Izzie’s things—a desk area that looked clear and unused. He wouldn’t have to touch it until he was ready.
“We’ve been keeping this box for you at the hospital,” she said. “I thought I’d deliver it and save you a trip.”
Christy breezed back over to the bag she’d brought and began unloading lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, and the roasted chicken.
“When’s the last time you ate a vegetable?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, just stood in the kitchen doorway and watched her work.
The surprising weight of the pizza box had her peeking inside to see the now cold, dried-out pie had been untouched. “Let’s make that when’s the last time you ate?”
Again, he didn’t answer. The white, v-neck t-shirt he wore looked rumpled. His jeans sagged around his waist. The stubble shadowing his jaw looked at least three days old.
Finally, he said, “I order that stuff, but by the time it arrives—” he shrugged “—I’m just not hungry.”
Christy nodded as she pulled the head of red lettuce from its plastic bag. “Yeah, I can understand that. But you have to eat, Aaron. Even if it’s just a little bit.” She glanced at him and saw that he was staring at his bare feet.
“Why don’t you go have a shower while I make us lunch?” She put enough firmness into the words to make the question sound more like an order.
He said nothing, only sighed, and then left the kitchen.
She went right to work. She left the veggies and chicken on the counter and loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Then she pilfered through several cabinets, finally finding what she was looking for in the pantry. She shook out the large trash bag, tucked the disgusting pizza inside, then moved to the living room. Making an efficient, clock-wise circle, she tossed the trash, gathered up the clothes, hung up the jacket, set the shoes in the hall closet, and took the glasses into the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. She folded the blanket that was on the sofa and fluffed the throw pillows. After tying the trash bag securely, she set it outside the back door. Neither the living room nor the kitchen were in perfect order, but the rooms were in better shape than they had been.
She did one more thing while Aaron was busy upstairs; she slid the Claddagh ring off her finger and tucked it into one corner of the box that contained Izzie’s journal and her other things from the hospital. It was probably the coward’s way of returning the piece of jewelry, but Christy didn’t think Aaron was ready to come face to face with the memories that ring would conjure.
Then she took a deep breath, went to the sink to wash her hands, and moved on to preparing lunch. With the lettuce rinsed, the tomatoes and cucumbers chopped, the chicken pulled off the bone, Christy cleared the kitchen table and was just setting the plates on the placemats when Aaron rejoined her.
His clothes were fresh, his face was clean-shaven, his hair still damp. He looked good. Very good. Christy focused on placing a paper napkin beside each plate.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” he told her, his guilt almost palpable in the statement. “The cleaning people really are coming this week. Sometime. What day is it, anyway?”
“Tuesday,” she told him. Then she bustled him into a chair. “I
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