Page 28 of Rocky Mountain Desire
“Matt?”
He smiled and offered the package. “Merry Christmas.”
She stared for a moment then shook herself. “Merry Christmas. Come in quick before we lose all the heat.”
The heavy scent of peppermint in the air tickled his nose. It was warmer inside than the last time he’d been in her apartment, but not much. Mostly because he wasn’t as cold to begin with.
“What brings you out on a holiday?” Hope shuffled from foot to foot. She glanced over her shoulder then excused herself, disappearing into the kitchen.
Matt didn’t answer—didn’t know how to answer. Instead, he put down his package. He was in the middle of taking off his layers when the realization hit he’d come straight from chores. “Hey, is it okay if I use your washroom?”
A burst of laughter rang from out of sight. “No problem, but if that’s all you stopped by for, you need to learn to go before you leave the house.”
He washed up, still wondering exactly why he was here. Kind of like he’d wondered the entire time he’d been working on the gift he’d brought her. It made no sense, but he wanted…
Nothing. He wanted nothing.
“Would you like a cup of tea or some apple cider?” Hope asked.
Matt slid into the living room, looking around, his curiosity rising. “Cider would be great. I left before they brought that out, and it’s a Christmas tradition.”
She bought him a mug and gestured to the lone chair that was free from swatches of fabric. “Have a seat. Don’t mind the chaos.”
“Did the shop explode?” He sat gingerly, wondering if the straight-backed chair could hold his weight.
“Just a few projects I thought I should get going.”
Matt sipped his cider to avoid blurting outOn Christmas?She knew what day it was as well as he did. “Can I help?”
Hope rocked back on her heels where she was kneeling beside the couch. “More help? Do you have a spinning wheel that whenever the hand stops on certain squares you go into the community and do random acts of helpfulness?”
“Good idea, but no. I was just…”
Just what?He stared down, at a loss for words. She rested on the floor with an expression of complete calm on her face. Her skintight leggings of bright red fabric and a patchwork-quilt sweater that hung nearly to her knees made her look vibrant and alive.
Hope sighed softly, placing her cup to the side and wiggling until she had her arms wrapped around her knees. She rested her chin on them and stared back. “Matt, why are you here? I mean, I’m not going to kick you out, but it’s strange. You got anything more than ‘I was in the neighborhood’ to say?”
He opened his mouth then shut it quickly. How could he tell her anything when he still wasn’t sure what had brought him in her direction, yet again. Matt raised his cup. “I honestly have no idea.”
Something between mischief and sympathy flashed in her eyes. “Very descriptive. I understand completely. Make yourself at home.”
She got on her knees and picked up squares of fabric one at a time, laying them on top of each other carefully.
“You’re not going to call the men in white to throw me into the funny farm?”
She didn’t stop working. “Nope, since I don’t feel like occupying the padded cell next to you. It’s not benevolence, Matt, it’s self-preservation.”
Matt watched her for a while longer. The sensation of loneliness blasted in harder than the icy-cold wind still sweeping the prairie fields to the west of them.
“Can I help you?” he asked again. “That looks interesting.”
Hope checked him over carefully for a moment before her smile lit her face. “If you want. Pick a solid, drop on a square of batting, then layer on any patterned fabric you like. Keep repeating until you have twenty sets in the pile. We’ll stack them on the table for now. Later I’ll chain-stitch them together for the start of the top.”
Matt put aside his cup and joined her on the floor. It was awkward at first, bumping her with his elbows as he reached for different colours. Music played quietly in the background, something with bagpipes, and he smiled, but didn’t say anything.
The silence stretched out, but it was comfortable, not awkward. Matt stood to carry his fourth pile to the table when the buzzer on the stove went off. “You want me to take care of that?”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “There’s nothing in the oven. It’s a timer to remind me to stop what I’m doing and have some supper. I tend to forget otherwise.”
