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The lip quiver was as close as she ever got, but no one else was ever treated to the smile he fought to hide.
“I like candy just fine. I’m just not a sweet guy, that’s all.”
“Mmm-kay. Whatever you say, Nater Tot.” She turned to the stove but not before she saw his lips dance once again. Another chocolate chip to enjoy.
Once they’d popped all the popcorn without indecent or need of a fire extinguisher, she heated the sticky mixture that would hold the balls together.
“Now, once I pour this over the popcorn, we have to wait until it’s just cool enough to touch, but not too cool because then it will harden, and this project will fall apart faster than the balls themselves. Got it?” She looked over at Nathan, who might as well have had a notebook and pen in his hand and taking notes for as intently as he watched her. A hard worker and a good student—she’d hit the popcorn ball-making lotto.
“So how big do we want to make them? As big as a fist?”
“Maybe as big asmyfist—definitely not yours,” she said, eyeing his hands. “You’ve got some big paws there, Nate the Great.”
The tips of his ears turned red as little beads of sweat prickled his forehead. Was he self-conscious about his hands?
“Your hands are great, Nate.” She hadn’t meant to rhyme, and complimenting his hands wasn’t really on her agenda of things to do tonight. But when the corner of his mouth pulled higher up his face than she’d ever seen it go, she didn’t care that she’d just sounded like a babbling idiot.
“I’m glad you like them,” he said with a chuckle. A chuckle, people! That was like a half dozen chocolate morsels. She was so happy she wanted to take his imaginary notebook and pen and scribbleI made Nathan Myers chuckle in my kitchenand make a note in the calendar app on her phone so she could relive this day in history for as long as she could.
“Let’s put them to work, alright?”
He nodded once, watching her pour the mixture over the popped corn. She stirred with a large wooden spoon, coating the entire contents of the bowl.
“Okay,” she said after sticking her finger in the bowl a couple minutes later. “I think we’re ready to roll. Literally.” And what do you know…another teensy-weensy smile.
They each dipped their hands in the bowl of cold water she’d filled and got to work.
Standing across from each other at the tiny kitchen island, they reached into the larger bowl, pulling out wads of popcorn. She was much faster than he was, rolling four balls in the time it took him to roll one, which wasn’t the worst thing, considering his contributions looked more like hot dogs than baseballs.
“Nate, look here. Try pushing the sides in a little more to get a more rounded shape. Like this.” She held up her latest creation as he nodded.
“Right,” he said with a conviction his fumbling hands didn’t echo. It was obvious he didn’t know his own strength, mashing the balls together so tightly she heard crunching each time he tried to form the treat.
“Why don’t you come around here and try it with me,” she offered, thinking maybe that if he stood next to her, he might have a better view of her hands.
But he’d clearly misunderstood.
“What—” When he came behind her and reached his arms around her and into the bowl so their hands touched, words diedon her tongue. Heck,shemight have died for a second. Because all of a sudden, they were reenacting the classic scene fromGhost, and Stella was wondering if she’d crossed to the other side and became one. She was so lost in the moment that she imagined hearing the chorus of “Unchained Melody.” Wait…she wasn’t imagining it. She was humming it.
Mortification washed over her like a downpour without an umbrella, and there was only one thing for her to do—clear her throat about a dozen times while faking a cough that made her sound like a malfunctioning leaf blower. That was better than humming the soundtrack to one of the most romantic scenes in cinematic history, right?
“Are you okay?” he asked as his head came around, putting his face centimeters from hers. Even though her eyes were watery from…whatever that was, she could still make out way too many features of his perfect face.
“Yeah. Great. Never better.”
He repositioned himself, his front against her back, and all seemed right with the world once again—you know, as long as she didn’t serenade him again with her humming. “Okay, then. Let’s try this again. This better?”
His warm breath shot chills down her spine, and she fought to regulate her breathing just so she could answer his question.Is this better? Uh, yeah.She couldn’t say that, of course, for so many reasons. But literally, she couldn’t say that because talking required cohesive thought, and right now, she couldn’t find a single one. Her brain was mushier than the popcorn mixture their interlocked hands kneaded over and over, which probably wasn’t good for the finished product, getting mangled like this. It definitely wasn’t good for Stella either, but here she was, holding onto this moment like it was the last pumpkin loaf of the season, and someone was battling her in tug-of-war for it.
“What are you doing?” a voice like sandpaper floated from behind, breaking her from her daydream. She stood ramrod straight, hoping he hadn’t noticed her stroking his humungous hands or her leaning into him like a cat against a piece of furniture. And good gravy, was she seriously sniffing him like a drug-sniffing dog? That wasn’t her fault. It was the darn sexy pine trees.
“Uh, er, um, um, um…”Oh yeah, let him think you were meditating while making popcorn balls. Seems practical.
“Just…can you tell me what you’re doing so I could maybe do the same?”
Well, I’m rubbing, sniffing, and practically laying against you, so if that’s something you’re interested in doing to me, I’m not gonna say no.
“Oh, for sure.” She moved away from the bowl with her hands up like she was under arrest. Why? No one could say. But just when she thought the most embarrassing thing she could do with her hands tonight was what had happened in the popcorn bowl, she shot him with not one but two finger guns. Because go big or go home, right? Oh, how she wished she could have gone home, but she was already there. And it wasn’t like she could throw him out, not when he’d been so gracious to stay and help and not when there was still so much for them to do. Then, she had an idea.
