Page 25 of Joy to Noel
ME
I think you’re just avoiding a negative answer to myquestion.
MJ
I just made dinner and have plenty. Why don’t you come over here?
ME
Ok, but I’m not awarding pity points for productivity because you took time to cook food.
MJ
I don’t need the pity points. I have an ace. Prepare my congratulatory flowers, please.
I practically jog to my car, happy that Hana isn’t here to see the smile on my face.
Chapter thirteen
Madison
Why did I just do that?Why would I spontaneously invite Liam to join me for dinner in my tiny cabin? My verytinycabin? Especially when I just cooked stir-fry? If he grew up with any amount of homemade Korean food, he’s going to judge this meal so hard.
I blame my tired brain for making such an irrational decision. Or, maybe I should fault the town of Noel for only having three dinner options during the offseason—pizza, the Deer River Bar, and a fried catfish joint I could never imagine Liam setting foot in. Actually, I should blame the town gossips (everyone) who would quickly broadcast that Liam and I were out to dinner together. Although, Liam looking so dang good in that gray suit and black shirt this morning might hold the most culpability.
There's so much blame to go around, but there’s no time to divvy out responsibility for my poor choices. Nothing in Noel is farther away than a few minutes’ drive, which means I have mere moments until Liam arrives.
I rush to stack the dirty dishes in the sink, at least giving the illusion of the countertop being clean. After saving the document of notes I took during the course sessions today, I power off my laptop and move it to the side table next to the bed. I hear the sound of a car pulling in and whip around the room looking for any other messes that need to be cleaned up.
My phonepingsfrom my back pocket, and I check the text from Liam’s new contact name.
SUITS
Stopping to feed Hamlet and then I’ll be over.
ME
After closing the door to the bathroom, I snatch the throw blanket from the back of the chair I was sitting in. I quickly fold it and drape it across the foot of the bed. I used my tablet to watch the editing courses, so there’s no Christmas ambience video currently playing to cast doubt upon my productivity. Still, I close the Christmas tab on the browser for good measure, since I’ll need to show Liam the tablet as evidence later.
There’s a firm knock on the door, and I reach up to smooth down my hair.What are you doing, Madison? Stop acting like you’re interested in Liam. That’s dumb.I purposely dishevel my hair and move to open the door.
Liam stands outside, deep brown eyes meeting mine. The hint of smile lines curb the intensity of his everyday stare. He’s ditched the jacket to his suit and rolled up the sleeves of the black dress shirt. The top button is undone, and so am I.
“Where are my flowers?” I ask, embarrassingly breathless. I need a second to pull myself together—to program my brain to stop romanticizing the man in front of me. And there’s nothing like a little verbal skirmish to reset my brain back to its normal settings.
Liam’s eyes flash with the challenge, and that does nothing to reconfigure my brain’s malfunction. The right side of his mouth twitches in an antagonizing smile as he says, “I’ll bring congratulatory flowers when I know flowers are due. Prove it.”
Rolling my eyes, I gesture him inside. “No judging the microwave rice, okay? It’s hard to cook properly with only one burner and no oven.”
He holds up both hands as he pivots to face me. “Zero judging the food. I’ll reserve my judgment for yourwork output.”
“Judge away. I have a trump card,” I scoff. After handing him a plate, I pull the lid off the bowl of brown rice and place a spoon inside. “Help yourself.”
Liam motions a hand toward me and says, “Ladies first.”
Quirking an eyebrow, I mimic his gesture. “No, guests first. I’m absolutely positive that ‘guests first’ is the gold standard of East Asian hospitality.”
