Wildest Dreams (Fantasyland #1)(28)

“Really?” I whispered and his eyes moved over my face before locking on mine.

“I see this idea pleases you,” he noted.

I nodded.

“Good,” he muttered then looked to Maria who had walked into the shop from the back room.

I grinned at the nuts.

Then I looked up at him and asked, “Do you like pecans?”

Frey looked down at me and asked back, “What?”

“Pecans, nuts. I’m really good at pecan pie and I’m going to make one for us tonight. But if you don’t –”

He interrupted me. “I like pecans, Finnie.”

Boy, I liked it when he called me Finnie.

In fact, I liked that there were things to like about Frey Drakkar and I was noticing there were a number of things to like.

Therefore, I grinned at him, “See, we’re getting to know each other already. This is working out great.”

He didn’t answer verbally. Nope, he didn’t.

He did better than that.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, his big hand lifted to cup my jaw and his calloused thumb slid lightly across my curved lower lip.

This felt good. So good, my belly dipped and my br**sts swelled again.

Yes, his touch could be light. Very light. And very sweet.

Ho boy.

I noticed his gaze had lifted to my eyes and then I knew those eyes were hazy from his surprisingly sweet touch when he bent so his face was close to my own.

“I very much like the curve of your mouth, wife,” he whispered, the ni**les in my swelling breast started tingling and my body swayed slightly closer to him as if he had some invisible pull and it was reeling me in. “I also like to watch it move, to hear it speak words of teasing or jest, or just any words at all.”

Oh man, that was sweet too.

He got even closer and kept whispering, “I wonder what else it can do that I will like.”

Now that wasn’t sweet, that was hot.

“Um…” I mumbled for no reason whatsoever and when I did, I watched his eyes go sexy lazy at the same time they smiled.

It was a good look. No, it was the best look I’d ever seen. On him or any man.

Uh.

Wow.

I was about to do something, I didn’t know what, maybe throw myself at him or toss the basket aside and demand he take me home immediately, strip me na**d and do as he pleased when his thumb slid back across my lower lip and he straightened.

“Your pecans, wife, my pie,” he murmured, I blinked then my body jerked and I pulled myself together.

“Right, pecans, pie, uh… dinner,” I muttered and turned to the nuts thinking maybe this adventure was going to be a lot better than I ever imagined.

Maybe even beyond my wildest dreams.

* * * * *

I spent the afternoon baking and cooking (and letting Penelope in and out a gazillion times). Frey spent the afternoon lugging logs in to replenish the supplies by the fires as well as reloading the back porch. Then he set about chopping more.

I was seeing it was good having a husband around because in my six weeks there, I’d already gone through the stash on the back porch and spent an hour of back and forth to the shed restocking it. This meant the supply in the shed was half gone and I’d been getting worried. To keep warm and cook, you went through a hell of a lot of wood. I wasn’t looking forward to another hour of back and forth, my favorite chore wasn’t lugging wood into the house and I was pretty pleased I’d done well roughing it but was not hankering to hone my currently nonexistent skill with an axe by chopping down trees.

With Frey there, I didn’t have to worry about any of this.

Bonus.

The bigger bonus was, even in the frigid temperatures, evidently chopping wood was hard work because Frey took off his sweater to do it and he did it at a stump that was clearly visible from the kitchen windows.

Watching this, I could see why my husband was seriously buff.

Watching this, I could also get distracted from cooking (and did).

So I stopped watching.

I went all out, using the china, silver and crystal in my trunks for the first time. It looked kinda silly on a farm table but this was our first dinner as husband and wife, this was our first dinner ever (for me) and this was our pre-consummation dinner so I wanted to make it an occasion and nothing said occasion like delicate china, heavy silver and elegant crystal, even in a rustic cabin.

So I used it.

I roasted a piece of beef, somehow pulled off potatoes dauphenois and boiled green beans which I was serving with fresh bread from the bakery and, after, my homemade pecan pie with cream for dessert. I called out to Frey at his stump (by this time, the sun was long gone so he was chopping in the totally frigid, totally dark evening and doing it by torchlight) twenty minutes before I reckoned it would be done, he quit ten minutes later and came to the table washed.

That was good.

He sat at the table and scooped out food on his plate without really noticing (and definitely not commenting on) the obvious effort I’d made.

That was bad.

When he was about to commence eating, I asked quietly, “Can you open the wine?”

That was when he looked at me, he looked at the table, half of his mouth hitched up for a millisecond then he got up and opened the wine we bought in town. Then he poured it. Then he sat down and commenced eating.

I started eating too and was pretty pleased with the results. The potatoes were burnt a little on the top but the roast was done to perfection, nice and brown on the outside, nice and pink on the inside.