“Are you sure? Babe, I know how it is … when your private life becomes public knowledge. I know how terrible that feels.”
“Matt, it’s no big deal.” I reached back and rubbed his thigh. What was he getting at? “People don’t know Night Owl is true, and no one is really harassing me about it. I’m not famous like you, remember? Nobody cares.” I smiled.
Okay, so I was lying. I did feel uncomfortable with Night Owl out in the public. The book was so raunchy … so detailed. And even my boss had read it. Mortifying.
I cleared my throat. “Nate’s obsession is a little worrying, but other than that…”
“He’ll drop it.” Matt sounded vaguely disappointed. “Trust me. He has no case.”
“Yeah, I hope so…”
Matt loosened another tangle from my hair. “Anyway … I like genre fiction, Hannah. Literary fiction teaches you how to write. Genre fiction teaches you how to plot.”
“You and your surprises.”
“You and your bird ways. You want some hot chocolate?”
“That sounds good. And I want to open my presents.”
I dressed in Matt’s shirt and he pulled on flannel pants. The cabin was delightfully warm.
Matt watched me as he filled the kettle. I loved it; he couldn’t take his eyes off me.
“You sure you don’t want me to boil the water?” I grinned.
“Ha. Stand back and watch a pro.”
I touched my lips as Matt struggled to get the burner lit. Do not laugh, do not laugh …
He narrowed his eyes at me.
“This one burner requires some finessing,” he murmured.
“Fortunately you’re good with your hands.”
“Don’t you know it…” The flame burst out and Matt flinched. So did I. My poor adorable lover. How was he surviving?
He lit a fire and we sat on the couch with our cocoa. He brought my presents to the coffee table, piling them around Laurence’s cage.
“Sorry, Laurence, nothing for you. I didn’t know you were coming.” When Matt leaned toward the cage, Laurence pressed himself to the bars and sniffled at Matt’s nose.
Okay, that was the cutest fucking thing …
“Oh! Wait.” I dragged over my suitcase and retrieved the presents I packed, one for me and one for Matt. “From the condo, remember?”
Matt tilted his head. “Huh, you’re right. How the hell did we forget to open those?”
“It wasn’t Christmas. And we had a lot on our minds.” I smiled and leaned against Matt. His hand strayed up and down my bare thigh. “But this…” I moved my gift for Matt away from the pile. “Let’s open this one tomorrow.”
Matt was smiling roguishly. “No problem,” he murmured. “You sure that’s a gift for me, or is it a gift for you?”
“Both of us?” I grabbed one of my presents. My cheeks burned.
Matt had wrapped my gifts with plain red paper. He kept up a running commentary as I opened them. “I only go to one little grocery store,” he said. I hugged the stuffed rabbit and kissed Matt’s frown. “They only had Valentine’s stuffed animals.” Lube. “Not sure if you like that type.” Massage oil. “That was the best one I could find.” Chocolate. “You don’t have to eat it.” Three books—a new biography of Elliott Smith, Patti Smith’s memoir, and a romance novel.
“This is brilliant.” Matt tapped the memoir. “And this, I don’t know, it’s new and acclaimed. I know you like Elliott Smith.”
“And this?” I giggled, displaying the romance.
“Ah, that … I thought it would be funny.”
I read aloud from the back cover. “‘Destiny’s powerful new employer’”—I whipped my hair dramatically—“‘becomes a dark horse in the race for her heart.’”
We laughed.
I thanked Matt for my gifts and he went on apologizing. I gave him a long, languid kiss—and that silenced him.