Page 161 of Holidating
The door opens, and Damien drinks her in. Her hair is tied up in a messy knot on top of her head. She’s wearing a light blue sweater that looks as soft as a cloud. And her kissable mouth is… well, it’s frowning at him. Then she raises a hand and beckons.
Maybe she has luggage? For a trip into town? He kills the engine and opens the door.
“Hi,” she says, crossing her arms and stepping back.
“Hi,” he echoes. “Is there luggage?”
She meets his gaze, and hers is a guilty one. “No. Um. No luggage. I don’t actually need a ride. My car is right there in the garage.” She points.
“I’m so confused right now,” he admits. “Why am I here?”
Her frown becomes stern. “I’m angry at you. And I heard you’re the only Uber driver in this part of Vermont. Please come in.”
A startled laugh escapes from his chest. “Okay? Sure. But I have to get someone first.”
She gives him a look of pure confusion. “Who?”
But he’s already trotting back to the car and pulling the basket-like car seat out off the backseat.
She takes a gasping breath when he rounds the vehicle with Micah, who’s passed out in the seat. “Oh my God, you have ababy?”
“This is Micah,” he says quietly. “My nephew. Zara’s second child.”
Her eyes tear up for some reason. “He’s so beautiful.”
“Hey,” he whispers. “Are you okay?”
She looks up to meet his gaze and shakes her head. Then she turns to walk inside, and he follows, baby carrier in hand, closing the door against the cold behind himself.
Inside, he finds himself standing in a tidy little kitchen. Nicolette is filling a teapot with water, but her hands are shaky. Sheabandons it in the sink. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have called. It’s Thanksgiving. But I’m so…” She sighs, and her shoulders droop. “I’mangry.”
“I’m getting that,” he says, setting the baby down gently, so he doesn’t wake. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
She steps away from the stove and kneels down in front of Micah’s sleeping form. “It’s harder to yell at you now that you brought a sleeping baby out in the cold to drive me somewhere. On a holiday. I feel like a heel.”
“He seems pretty okay with it,” Damien says. “If you talk fast, I might not even miss Thanksgiving dinner.” He reaches down and takes her hand. “Come on, Overland. Let’s have this out.”
When she rises, she looks sadder than he’s ever seen her. The urge to wrap her in a hug is strong. But he leads her by the hand into the living room, where there’s a sofa in front of a fireplace.
They sit down, and she bites her lip. “This felt easier when I was summoning you in a rage.”
“What’s my crime?” he asks simply.
She braces her hands on her knees. “In January, I received an envelope in the mail. In Boston. Photos of my husband hitting on a woman in a bar.”
His stomach twists. “Yeah, I might know something about that.”
She frowns. “I couldn’t tell from the photos where the bar was. And the note only said,Sorry. You seem like a nice person. That’s it. No return address, no signature. No other details.” She gives him an arch look. “So I didn’t mention anything to Cam…”
His heart drops. If anything terrible happened to her this year, he’ll feel terrible.
“But I’m not an idiot. So I hired a private detective to watch my husband. It took the guy six weeks to catch him going to a hotel with a stranger he picked up in a bar.”
He briefly drops his head into his hands. “Fuck.”
“Exactly. And I have the photos to prove it. So I hired a lawyer to start on my divorce. I moved out one day while Cam was at work. I left a copy of some of my favorite photos of him on the table.” She rolls her eyes.
A surge of pride fills his chest. “You’re such a badass,Overland.”
