The Long Road Home Read Online Free

time. "Might as well use what's perishable. If push comes to shove, we can store some in a cooler or simply put stuff on the balcony, let Mother Nature keep it cold."
    Logan stood up, walking over with just a slight limp. His eyes sparkled as the corners of his mouth hitched up. "You sound like you've done this before."
    She grinned. "Farm girl here. Been there, done that, have the Girl Scout badge to prove it."
    He chuckled.
    "Really. My parents live in rural Nebraska. Our power went down fairly often with storms, especially in the winter. You learn to adapt."
    "What do you want me to do?"
    "How do you feel about cookies?"
    "Love them."
    "Good." She flipped over the package of chocolate. "Here's your recipe. If you need help, just holler. In the meantime, I'm going to start with the homemade bread. Get the big stuff done first, then we'll start on the veggies."
    "Homemade bread?" He shot her a puzzled look.
    "Christmas tradition at home. Wait and see. You'll love it."
    The next three hours were a blur of cooking and baking, with a couple of trips back to Maria's apartment for more supplies. Logan's apartment had a double oven, allowing them to put a turkey breast in for the allotted time while dozens of cookies baked above, followed by strawberry muffins. By the time Gwen carefully placed the four loaves of bread in the oven, Logan dug frozen vegetables out of the freezer, setting pots on the stove, and began to warm them for their upcoming feast.
    Delicious aromas wafted through the apartment, familiar smells from every Christmas Gwen could remember. Only this time, she stood hip to hip in the kitchen of a New York apartment with her former classmate. More than once, she found herself staring at his prime body, imagining the muscles residing just beneath his sweats, resisting the urge to squeeze his rounded rear and check for resiliency. Chatting away as they worked, they caught up on happenings since their sole class together, shared childhood memories, and teased away.
    Just like before, Gwen's nerves settled under Logan's care and attention, his words and actions soothing and engaging. His gift had probably saved his toes a few more tramplings as she'd clumsily attempted foreign body movements and steps, nervous to be in the arms of a living Adonis in dance class. He had made her laugh, pointed out his own less than graceful movements, and they'd hit it off instantly.
    Like a well-oiled machine, they fell into a rhythm, even finding time to toss in Logan's dirty laundry now and again, playing a game of Beat the Clock with the steady pelting of ice against the window.
    As the clock struck three am, they sat down at the small dining room table, surrounded by the fruits of their labor.
    "Wow. We made it." She flashed him a smile. "You're a pretty good cook, by the way."
    Logan shrugged. "Learn to take care of yourself in the Army." He slathered butter on a slice of still hot homemade bread, then took a large bite. His eyes closed as an expression of absolute delight crossed his face. "You're right. This is delicious." His gaze pinned hers. "Wonderful. Exceptional."
    "I figured you'd like it." She scooped up a spoonful of peas and lifted them to her mouth. Watching him eat for a few moments, she tossed out a topic of conversation. "Why the Army?"
    He swallowed. "Felt like a better fit for me. I juggled the idea my senior year, debating whether to try to find a job or make the leap for the Army. Military won out in the end."
    "Any regrets?" The words popped out before she could bite them back. "I'm sorry. I…"
    "Overall, no. I'd do it again." He took a long drink of his soda. "Just move faster next time."
    Gwen couldn't react to his sad attempt at humor, too busy kicking herself for asking such a ridiculous question. Time for a new bunny trail in the conversation. "What was your major? I forgot."
    "Recreation and physical education." He forked a piece of turkey. "I worked as a personal trainer in college."
    "Now I remember."